


Two Hearts From Hell.

by AuthorInDistress



Category: Iron Man (Comic), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action, Character Death, F/M, M/M, Mystery, Original Character(s), Plot, Short Chapters, The character death is neither Loki or Tony, building slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 102,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorInDistress/pseuds/AuthorInDistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after the capture of Loki on Midgard, the death of Odin resulted in the crowning of Thor and the return of Loki from his exile. Unfortunately for Loki, he had preferred exile to Asgard and became stuck with the limbo-life he'd never wanted. However, when chaos erupts during Thor's two-year anniversary, Loki finds himself lost from Asgard with Tony Stark and without answers. And with more and more incidents in each of the realms occurring when they shouldn't, the both of them land on a journey neither had imagined themselves to be in. Where most of the time they're just trying to survive, and were probably both just in the wrong place at the right time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You don't belong here.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this story up before but it was in present-tense, rushed and had a different title that I disliked. I'm reposting it after I edit the chapters that had been there before and hopefully will be updating a lot faster this time round... :)

.

_In dreams, we are energy. We are life. Bounding in the glades of our fortitude over lifes great obstacles. In reality, we are weary. We are old, and tired, and so very angry at everything. In reality...everything is cold._

 

***********

The breath left Loki’s lungs when he slammed into the wall, the gravel scraping over his sore skin as he slumped over it; wheezing. His staff had long since been lost, having been wrenched from his grasp and scattered across the floor to where he couldn’t reach. Beside him, where he refused to look, lay the cold body of the All-father; lying still and withered, and he kept his gaze pinned away from it. The double set doors to the death chamber heaved open, the gaping hole Loki had been blown through splintering the wall beside it, and the plaster crumbled to the ground in time with Thor’s footsteps.

“And here - I’d thought you’d not had it in you.” It was difficult to breathe, to hear past the rushing in his ears, and the thrumming of his own blood running through his aching head. He shook it, blinking sharply as Thor came to a halt before him, and struggled to straighten. No. He’d not lose this battle. _Not again._

Thor’s hands fisted in his armour and hauled him to his feet, pressing his back against the wall with no care for his injuries, as he called his hammer to him. There was no more mercy in his glare. 

“Do it.” Loki's voice was nothing but a harsh whisper, his eyes blazing green, burning into his once-brother's own blue orbs. “ _Kill_ me.” Thor’s arm recoiled for a blow, the strike that followed _blindingly_ painful, and he succumbed to it in a daze. The second drove him to unconsciousness and, without even the strength to keep his eyes open, he knew he’d lost. He let that thought wrap around his heart bitterly in the acceptance that he would never be good enough. Not even to succeed in orchestrating his own death.

He awoke to the cold light of day, and to the aching presence of all the pain Thor had caused him the night before. He moaned under his breath, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, and digging into them until it hurt. 

_It hurt_

Hurting is all he ever seems to have done since that fateful day. The day all truths had finally been spoken. With a jerk, he raised his head from his hands and pressed his lips together. Flicking his eyes across the room - _his room_ \- he knew the door was locked without needing to check and he also knew that Thor must obviously hope that he’d open it anyway and go to him. He could hope all he wanted. Loki has never been and never will be one to give satisfaction to a fool's hope.

He'd spared him. 

Of course the oaf had spared him. Even when everything called for his brother's death, all Thor had done in response was cause enough damage to only ever stop him and not kill. He was not like Loki. He was noble. Good. Nothing like Loki at all. 

He glared at the door balefully, before flinging himself down over the sheets, his arm thrown across his face in his own childish gesture of frustration. This was the third time he’d woken like this, laid out of his bed and bruised everywhere. 

And he'd grown tired of it. Since the day of Thor's crowning all he had ever known was this room or the grand hall, or Thor's council chambers. He'd fought, he'd screamed and he'd bled, hoping for his return to the exiled plain he'd been banished to, where he had actually had peace of mind for the first time in his life. But his dear _brother_ only had his "best interests" at heart and could not bear to see Loki "tormented" any longer. 

Because living the limbo-life of only waiting for someone to tell you what to do, was not torment in the slightest. He sighed, rolling over and covering his head with his arms. The scars of his punishments itched on his skin but he refrained from healing them, hoping that when his mother saw them she would deal her own punishment on her eldest son. And, despite he was now a man and not a boy, the thought of Thor being reprimanded still brought him enough pleasure to smile.

That is, if his “mother’’ would care enough to do so, after all he had done. The thought was depressing, nonetheless, and he pushed it out of his mind. Frigga had a kind heart. She wouldn’t abandon him.

When no one came to him, he gave into his boredom and waved a hand at the door to unlock it.

There were no guards outside, which was an oddity compared to how he'd been treated since being here, but it did make things easier so it really didn't matter to him. He already had his armor on, so he was well-enough dressed for walking around, if only slightly overdressed, but he left his armor on at all times these days anyway - as a sort of symbol that he would never stop fighting back.

Fighting for what, he no longer knew nor cared. But he left it still covering his body, though it was tattered and torn in too many places, and the once beautiful leather had now curled, in ways he did not have the patience to repair.

He ignored the frantic looks the servants gave him when he emerged from around the corner. It was harder to ignore the scurrying of the children on the grounds, however, when they saw him approaching, and he leered at the frightened mothers that herded them away from his path. He should be used to it by now. 

He knew of the rumours, of Thor’s determination to rid Asgard of lies by first admitting the truth of everything his family had ever hidden. And he knew what that had meant for him. At least when the All-father had been alive, he'd been able to at least pretend to be Asgardian. 

Now even _children_ knew what he was. Knew what he was capable of. 

His boots were silent on the stone floors but, despite that, his presence was known almost immediately. The guard that dared to physically stop him from entering the court, received a brutal blow that succeeded in subduing the others. He was weaker than most Asgardians, having to rely mostly on his magic in battle, but that did not mean that he couldn’t even defend himself from anyone arrogant enough to lay hand on him. 

And now, with his true form public knowledge, he was feared by them all, and that was something he fully intended to take advantage of. 

Stepping over the guard, Loki briefly wondered _why_ he would try to stop him, since the court was open to him anyway but, rather than hesitating, he simply threw open the doors before him instead. He let them clang heavily against their frames, and the heads of those nearest to him snapped toward him at the sound. The sight that met him, made him pause in surprise. 

He’d expected to find Thor only. 

To see him lazing on the All-fathers throne as he had done the times Loki had been here. Pathetically attempting to rule as the King, and as his father once had, while the court ministers lathered him with their "compliments". 

But instead, he saw before him a ceremony, a ceremony he had just interrupted. Light and hearty music played in the background, as noble men and women gathered amongst each other, with either meat or mead in their hands. The throne was empty, the court seats empty, and the stairs were riddled only with the decorated guards. 

Of course. Thor's ceremony.

He was beginning to be noticed by other guests, if all the whisperings and head turns were anything to go by, and when all eyes settled on him, he felt the smallest twinge of nervousness within him. He knew how he must look: deranged and panting, but the more he stared at the guests, the more he found that he genuinely did not care what they thought of him anymore. Loki straightened from his hunch, letting the doors go when they did not begin to shut on him, and met each and every pair of eyes before him as he walked into the throne room. 

Behind them all, the music faltered to a stop, and the nervousness inside him slowly faded into amusement.

“Ah.” 

The people had not turned away from him while he’d stood there, and they watched him as he watched them all.

He realised his mouth was open slightly from his moment of confusion, and he closed it, letting a smile take it’s place. “I’d not realised Thor had guests. Do excuse me.” The crowd tensed when he stepped forward enough to close the doors and, instead of leaving, plucked a goblet of mead from the extended table. The silence his presence caused was a welcoming sound compared to the jeering he was used to, and it half-irked, half-amused him that only he could cause such a disruption. 

“You’re a wonderful host, Thor.” He said, finding his former-brothers wary gaze from across the court. He swirled the cup in his hand as he spoke. “The silence in here is most encouraging.” And, if it were even possible, the silence grew all the more suffocating. Belatedly, in the back of his mind, he could almost remember that Thor’s ceremony was meant to be in four days not in one. And unless he had lost more time recovering than he’d thought, it was too early.

“So you have woken, Loki.” Thor’s voice fanned over the frozen crowd as he approached him. Others moved out of the King's way, their stumbling only emphasising their haste to leave Loki’s view, and to have Thor receive all the attention from his _prisoner_. “I was planning on sending a guard to see I’d not injured you too much.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed at that lie, but he was interrupted before he’d even begun to reply.

“Send him back then, Thor. Let him rot in his chamber.” 

Fandral. How very _typical_.

“Thor.” Thor’s eyes jerked to his when he used his name, so calmly, compared to the venom it was prefered to be said with now. “Are you not King now?”

Thor hesitated, his expression clouded. “ ... Yes.” Loki smiled at him, doing nothing to dispose of any uncertainties Thor had about what he was going to say next. 

“Then should Fandral here,” He glanced at the man in question, directing his smile to him instead, “Not be executed for treason? He just now called out to you in open court. With no permission, and with an order no less.” Thor sighed, looking away from him, and in the corner of Loki's eye he saw Sif gripping her sword with both hands. _Good_. “And, if my memory serves me correctly, that law has not changed in the two years that you have been King.” There was a glint of light shining into his eyes, the first quarter of Sif’s sword already unsheathed. “I, personally, vote for his death.” He sneered at Fandral’s darkened gaze. “That is the law, after all. And you all know, how much I loved to study the laws of our realm.”

Fandral scoffed, his mustache quivering at the gust of breath. "Studied? To give you more pleasure when you broke them, I imagine.” Thor pressed his fingers to his forehead, looking at Sif for help. “There isn’t a law here that you yourself haven’t broken and should be killed for.” Loki gave him the full intensity of his gaze now, turning slowly to face him, "I vote for _your_ death."

“ _You should talk_.” His voice was low, raspy, and his eyes pricked in anger when Fandral didn’t turn away from his glare. 

Thor said nothing.

He did not disagree with Loki, but neither did he call for Fandral’s arrest. He simply stood, as a sentry overseeing a battle taking place before him. Too cowardly himself to join arms. Too cowardly to do anything at all. Looking at him now, and seeing that lost, wistful expression on his face, he reminded Loki of his anger with him. Of his anger with everything. Now was not the place to confront him with his questions but _now_ was when he’d do it. Fandral's insolence could wait.

He turned back to Thor, letting him look hopeful enough that there could be that satisfaction when Loki’s next words took that from him. “Why have you not killed me, Thor?” The words were such a change of subject that Thor’s lip pursed in surprise. He sucked his cheeks in as he chewed them, his eyes narrowing at Loki. 

“Because it is what you want from me.” Loki didn’t say anything. His face betrayed nothing of how he felt about that sentence. “And I refuse to do that to you.”

The court’s silence intensified at that. Which actually, truly confused him. He’d have thought they would at least whisper amongst each other, to show their fury of his continuous existence and his impotence to say such things to their King. But they did not. They merely stood, and stared. 

Their accusations were clear on their faces however, and their insults were almost bursting from their mouths; their united hatred for all that he has done and all that he is, burning in their eyes. Oh, how he hated them. He hated all of this. This life he was now to submit to when he had been perfectly happy with his punishment. 

With his exile. 

He had never wanted to come back here. To the one place he knew he would never belong in. And yet Thor had dragged him back regardless. And now he was expected to be _grateful_ for that.

The staring did not stop and it sickened him. These liars, and these cowards, these - 

These worthless morons that had no honour in their own lives and yet still believed they had the right to torment his. Well. If Thor refused to kill him, then he had plenty of people right here, to choose from. Anger was always a good incentive for murder, and he’d always known how to make people _that_ angry. 

Baiting was a simple habit from childhood, he could still do this.

He spoke into the quiet of the court, feeling the fear radiating off of the people, and it filled him like air. “Why so silent, my friends? This is a celebration is it not?” He looked to Thor, as though for affirmation, but the sadness there led him to push him back instead. Thor staggered, but still did nothing to stop him and Loki strode out toward the crowd; watching as they backed away with their movements synchronized in joint emotion. 

As they parted, Loki could see that behind one man there was a rounded shield propped against the wall. It was painted in red, white and blue, and the reminder of those colours only served as a fuel to his contempt. Because if _they_ were here as well, then Thor was likely to not survive Loki's anger.

“A celebration." He repeated, his voice carrying over the hall easily. The irony in his voice was evident, a way of releasing all his anger. "Your King’s anniversary.” He spat the word as if it were a curse. And perhaps it was, “His second year of ruling." He barked a short laugh, the sound making his own stomach turn. "How joyous this must be for you all, for all your tiny minds,” His bitter tone finally hit home and a young boy whimpered against his fathers side when Loki came even closer. This was the first time many of them had seen him speak since discovering who he truly was, and the word they now associated him with lay thick over the air. 

_Monster_.

Loki's anger grew, completely ruling over any thought, any action and he spun to face Thor once again, “Come then, Thor. Where is the _MUSIC_?” The people stirred at his sudden shout, tensing visibly. He hurled the goblet still in his hand - knowing that it was half filled with mead - at the instruments in the back. 

The strings pinged together in a single chord, the major key they strung daunting in the quiet and still no one spoke. 

Thor had not moved at all from where he stood but there were others who had. Tiny shifts of movement that were only obvious because Loki was looking for them. Looking for those that were moving to get away from him. 

He deflated slowly, with his arm still slightly outstretched, but there was no anger in the people before him. Only fear. No murderous desires that he could twist and use. 

His goblet rolled off of the instruments and across the floor, the jewels along it’s side bumping over the marble. He watched it roll, lowering his arm and blinking the water from his eyes. The goblet continued to roll, mead still tipping from it's rim, before it was stopped by a black, polished boot. Loki paused, already having assumed his suspicions were correct, and his eyes followed the slim leg that kicked the goblet back to him, until he met the face he had once squeezed in his hands. 

“Well, what can we say? The party don’t stop ‘til you walk in.” 

Stark. So the shield _had_ been the Captain's, of course it had, and now it was no longer resting against the wall which probably meant that the Captain had readied for an attack; just like Sif was always so keen to. 

Loki’s chest tightened as he stared, a flood of memories tainting his mind when he'd rather they'd be forgotten.

“I wasn’t aware we’d changed the law regarding _Midgardian's_ upon Asgard.” Stark’s eyes found his at his condescending tone, at the way he had called them by their realm name as though they were diseased, and he could feel the hatred burning in them when he met them head on, “But I suppose, now that you are King Thor, you must think that you can corrupt our traditions constantly, by disregarding all our laws.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be locked up?” Stark called out, ignoring the murmured warnings around him.

“My punishment has long since been over.” Loki countered with a smirk, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, well, that’s not what I heard you ego - ow - _no_ Steve, he's just - !” Stark shrugged off the Captain's hand, rounding on him instead of Loki and behind him, he felt Thor do the same. The King's larger hand engulfed his shoulder in a secure and tight hold that had him grinding his teeth to stop himself from wincing.

“Let us continue our celebration.” The crowd shifted uncertainly, unsure of what to take from all these sudden events but Thor continued to talk over their noise, “My brother is here now yes, but he can do no harm. He is under my watch and he knows the consequences of disobeying me.” Loki stiffened at his words, his nails biting into his palm as he clenched his fists, and if Thor felt it he did not show it. _No harm_. His teeth continued to grind together but he said nothing in either agreement or no. Satisfied, the crowd moved again, but it was Stark’s smug look as he took mead from the table that was the final straw.

“What kind of consequences, Thor - ?” The glass in Stark's hand exploded, shards of it shattering everywhere and he let out an amusing little yelp as it cut into his skin. Droplets of blood slid down his wrist in trails, and he shook his hand at the pain. "Fuck - "

"Brother!" 

Loki snarled, ducking his shoulder out of Thor's grip and turning on him instead. And for once, _for once_ , Thor stared at him like he did not know him; alarm written over his ridiculously open face. 

Loki’s eyes flashed and he jerked a hand to the side, causing everything and anything made of glass to break apart. The room showered with it and the people screamed, covering their faces as they ran for the doors. The Captain pushed Stark down with a shout, keeping him covered with his own body. There was blood in his golden hair and Loki was suddenly reminded of Fandral; despite the fact that the man was here anyway. His bore down on the Captain, drawing his magic easily to tilt the statue from behind until it could be at a suitable angle to crush him. 

All he would need to do was release his spell and both Stark and the Captain would be - 

"Doctor Banner, no." At this Loki turned once again, his spell now incomplete. Glass flew past his face as he spun his head around to see the Beast. He was human now but very close to changing. Half his skin was green and his fists were growing into the ones Loki knew very well; ones that had hauled him up like he'd weighed nothing. 

Thor had a hand on his arm to stop him, but his eyes were not on Banner. "I will deal with him."

"Will you." Loki growled darkly, his hands clenching, but before he could even call his staff toward him to fight Thor, the ground shifted under them all. They fell back at the force of the movement and Loki froze - stunned for a moment - but it began to shake again. With more vigor this time. 

And it did not stop. "How - ?"

He snapped his head up to stare at the throne only to see the marble and the statuettes there crumble, the glass littering the golden cloth like diamonds in sunlight. He released his magic, furrowing his brow as he stared and he could hear Thor’s shouts of confusion over the sounds of the walls crumbling but he didn't take his eyes off of the throne. 

“Brother,” Thor’s grip was iron on his neck as it dragged him to his feet, but he shrugged it off and stepped away from him. “Brother, _stop this_.”

He was not doing this. 

"I am not doing this."

Something was wrong. 

Something was very wrong. His magic could do wonders, he knew that, but to cause the ground to shake would take _eons_ of energy and concentration, and he had neither of those after his many fights with Thor. Nor after all his many attempts to end his life. He was not - he _could_ not be doing this. 

He took a step toward the throne, holding his arms out to balance over the shaking ground.

The hall was empty now, the Asgardian nobles having already fled from Loki’s magic, and so they'd not witnessed the shaking yet. But if it was happening elsewhere also, then perhaps they’d not needed to stay anyway. 

And yet, with how empty the hall was, there could never be silence in Asgard. 

The tinkling of the glass on the ground served as a warning for them all, and Loki braced when the ground shifted beneath his feet, the rolling groans of the walls echoing as they strained to hold together as their foundations were taken from them. He heard the panicked shouts of the others in the hall and reined his own in, keeping his eyes fixed on the throne.

“Brother, _stop this_!” Thor bellowed, ushering his poor, weak friends out to safety. His hammer was not in his hand which could only mean that he still believed this was Loki’s foul mood in control of this chaos. He heard the Captain yell, short and pained, and then there was silence from him. Stark was screaming obscenities at him and refusing to leave, and Banner had unleashed his beast from it’s human cage; choosing to - thankfully - not attack Loki but to hold the walls up with it’s huge shoulders. 

Statues were crumbing, whole walls falling apart. 

_How?_

“I am not doing this.” He murmured to himself, his arms limp, and his eyes still on the throne. Of all the movement in the hall, it sat perfectly still amongst the destruction. Plaster rained down upon them, shaking everything, and the golden wonders of his father's reign were torn down when a spear fell upon the tapestries his mother had twined together. Erasing the history of it. 

Erasing everything. 

“ _Brother_!” 

The floor opened wide, a gaping black hole that swallowed both Thor and the unconscious body of the Captain. 

The King's cry echoed in it’s blackness as he fell and more gaps opened around them all. 

Loki swallowed, breathing heavily, but still the throne captured his attention. He couldn't turn away from it, even if he wanted to. 

The Beast roared to his left when the entirety of the ceiling fell upon it. It fell to it's knees under the weight of it all and the plaster covered it's head completely. 

Burying it. 

Rumble continued to fall over it’s body, any gap it made as it tried to escape sealed until it could no longer move beneath it. 

Loki staggered back, unaffected and unhurt, and still standing. 

So much was happening. So much happening that he knew from fact and memory was completely impossible. He couldn’t keep wind of it all and his mind was blurring from lack of energy already but he could still hear someone screaming.

He was bowled over by a weight hitting his back, and the pain of it woke him to the terror of what was happening. 

“Bring them _back_!” 

Stark. 

So, he was still here. 

Loki whirled around to face him, grabbing his shoulders in a tight grip; all sanity and reasoning long gone. Stark didn’t let him keep hold, he pushed and shoved at Loki’s chest but his strength was nothing compared. He must not have brought his metal suit with him for Loki couldn't see it anywhere. Behind him the paintings on the ceiling shattered on the ground so he erected a shield over himself - and over Stark as well, as an afterthought. 

He needed information from him after all.

“How long have you been in Asgard?” 

He had to know, he had to know how much time he’d lost. 

There may have been signs, things his mother may have foreseen, things he’d missed. His fight with Thor had been a disadvantage he’d not predicted, he knew that now, and he regretted it more than he should. 

If Odin were still alive, he would have already known this was to happen. But Thor was not Odin. And neither was Loki. But unlike his brother, Loki could seek answers where answers could be found and in Stark, he would find what he needed. 

Stark stared back at him, his arms tense under Loki’s fingers, and yet he didn't say anything. He didn't even look afraid. 

The blur in Loki’s mind was still there, a dark shadow making him dizzy, and from Stark’s dazed expression he knew he could feel it as well. Something in the air maybe. Which meant that he had to speak fast.

“How long?” He shook Stark, digging his fingers into his arms but Stark only stared at him in disgust, "You will tell me now, Stark, or - "

“Go to hell.”

And it was as if Stark’s words themselves were the trigger. 

For, as soon as he said them, there was only darkness.

.


	2. There is a wrong in the Air.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _The smallest things change the biggest events._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's eyes are blue in this because they are in the comics and I love Tony with blue eyes :)

.

The darkness pressed into his mind, making any thoughts there become jarred and broken and leaving only the essence of pain. 

Loki lay still, his body quivering and shuddering and sounds coming from his mouth that only his mother could only have ever heard. 

The aches in his head and chest pounded in perfect rhythm to his heart; jolting him on the ground as he writhed on his back. His fingers dug into soft mud and he spat bile out of his throat. He bucked, heaving and retching, his head spinning. His tongue was as dry as cloth in his mouth while his insides twisted together unbearably. 

His eyes refused to open, the lashes stuck together with sticky perspiration, and the more he strained to, the more pain spiked behind them. He almost sobbed at it all but restrained himself in time. 

No matter the distress he was in, he would not weep at it. Not now. He’d vowed to never do so again since the day Thanos had broken his already tattered mind. He tried to relax, breathing heavily past the pain and slowly opening his mind to consciousness. 

It took more time than it usually would to recover but finally his eyes were able to be pried open. They flared against the sun, itching from the heat, but he refused to squeeze them shut for fear that they'd seal all over again. The shaking in his body had reduced and was only an incessant twitching in his fingertips by now. 

The dizzying nausea subsided and his mind fluttered into an impure sense of relief. 

There was light. He could sense as much now. 

The trees above him blocked the rays of a sun with their brown leaves, and he arched toward the feeling of its warmth over his bruised skin. Half his body was covered with the black shadows of trunks and bushes, draping him in a slight chill already.

He sat, gingerly assessing each and every injury, and focusing only on drawing his magic to him to heal and regain his strength. He cautiously staggered to his feet, the movement taking more effort than he’d assumed it would and he swayed on his feet; his mind still jumbled despite his attempts to clear it. His limbs felt like melting ice, burning and becoming so like water, and it hard to stand due to that, let alone to walk. 

_Because it is what you want from me_.

He clenched a fist, letting the joints crack against his skin, as he jerked his head to rid it of Thor’s irritatingly earnest voice.

_And I refuse._

A sun glared down on him, warming him to the bones and alerting him to his surroundings. It revealed to him mud and clumps of wilting grass, shining the nature around him in a sickly yellow light. 

He was either in the far regions of Vanaheim or in the spring of Alfheim. 

But in Alfheim the trees were beautiful and healthy. 

Here, they were dying. He cursed to himself. Of all the realms, of all the cities he could have been transported to, a higher fate had left him in the humid marshes of _Vanaheim_.

At least, here amongst the mud and the sap, he was far from any Vanirs and safe from being discovered whilst he was this weak and dazed. 

He leant against the tree that stood beside him, sagging against the bark and relaxing enough to dig inside himself. To call a little magic back to heal his wounds, even though he knew it would be futile to hope for that much. He still had nothing in himself to even muster enough for a vanishing spell for a few feet away, let alone to spark between whole realms. He’d flicker, most likely to separate or strain his heart far too much, to even attempt a weak spell.

Had all this been planned? 

To destroy the hall would have taken something with immense power, and for it to have taken them all by surprise was a huge feat. Not only had they - whoever ‘they’ were - rid themselves of Thor, but they had rid themselves of anything able to find them. All of his Mother's premonitions had been in that hall, along with all of Odin's work and knowledge. He didn't know if Sif had been lost as well but if the Goddess of War was gone, with and Thor lost, Asgard was likely to kneel to whoever screamed the word at them.

A soft moan interrupted his thoughts and he snapped his head toward the sound, narrowing his eyes at the bushes before him. He straightened, pushing off away from the tree and planting his feet firmly on the ground; ignoring his still weakened body. He carefully stepped around the numerous twigs on the ground and swung his legs over the bushes, wincing when the muscles in them were strained by the movement. 

And then, there was Stark.

"Well."

Stark lay on his side in the dark mud. His little mortal body was curled in on itself, much like a child’s did when subconsciously seeking reassurance. Another light moan came from him as he stirred on the ground. His arms were shaking, visible from their position wrapped around his trembling torso, and his face was twisted in pain. 

If Loki had been in pain when he’d awoken, then this man - this mortal - must be in _agony_.

He looked down on him almost pityingly. 

Because yes, poor Stark, lying in a strange new land with pain racking his body and in full view of any passer-by that would not remorse at all over slaughtering him where he lay. But the moment passed and he stepped over Stark’s body easily, avoiding the mud and instead choosing to step on the smaller man’s curled fists. After all the torment he’d caused Loki, sore fingers was hardly sufficient revenge but he was in no condition to bear the brunt of Thor’s wrath should he find that Loki had harmed his little "Man of Iron".

That is, if Thor were still alive. When the darkness had overwhelmed Loki’s mind, he’d assumed he’d fallen into a pit much like Thor and the Captain of America had. And he was alive, so perhaps the King was as well. 

But where had _he_ ended then? In Vanaheim like Loki? Or perhaps in a far more welcoming place, as fate had always seemed to fare better for Thor than him. 

As everything always did.

He scowled at nothing as he walked, continuing on away from the spot he’d been in for almost half a day. 

He’d been there for too long and if any Vanir were close by he’d be an easy target. Being the God of Mischief and Chaos, he was forever imprinted in their prophecies, and it was never for any good reason. Vanir had reason to fear him but unfortunately, that also meant that they had reason to kill him. 

He carried on walking, the pain spiking in his spine making him hiss under his breath with every step until he decided to take a large branch as a makeshift staff to help him walk. The forests of Vanaheim were a wonder during the night - or so he’d been told by Frigga - but during the day all he could see and feel was the mud and the heat and the distance of it that seemed to increase with every mile.

Still shaky from the forced transport off of Asgard, it wasn’t long before he needed rest again. He leant against another tree and wet his mouth with his own saliva to try and clear his throat enough to mutter a spell for a little water. 

It was no use. Not when he was still too weak in regards to his magic. 

Though his physical strength was slowly returning, his powers were still trapped within him. Whatever had happened on Asgard, whatever had caused all this, had certainly had enough power to drain Loki of his. 

_If_ it had been purposeful. It could have, by all means, simply have been nature’s course to have caused such destruction and that idea was more frightening than he dared to think. 

Because if that were true, then it would mean Ragnarök were near, and if his mother had not been present during the ceremony then that confirmed that she had known. That she had seen it happening. 

And did nothing.

No. Frigga would never endanger the lives of her family or of her homeland. She had not attended many ceremonies since Odin’s death. Her absence could simply have been emotional, not conspiritional. Ragnarök need not be the only answer. 

A sharp cry caught his attention, and his head snapped to the left when it startled him. 

The cry had been feminine and of pain, not of battle, but he hid at the sound of another anyway. Crouching beside the tree he let the lengthy grass before him cover him from sight and he squinted through it at the path just ahead. 

Four Storm Giants lumbered past as he watched. Their huge bodies glistening with sweat and their clubs gripped tightly in their hands. 

Loki's heart almost stopped in his chest. Giants. 

_Giants_. In Vanaheim?

Between each one of them was a dozen or so Sisters of Vanaheim, tied together with rope and joined in a marching line. Some were noble, shown clearly by the beautiful armour they were wearing, and the way they refused to submit and lower their heads. But there were scribes also, with their heads bent and their hooded cloaks dragging over the forest leaves as they were shuffled along. 

Loki watched them pass, keeping his breathing slow and careful. 

His eyes scanned the Giants to see if any had sensed his presence. 

If they were only after Sisters, then his gender could perhaps keep him safe, but Storm Giants were unpredictable creatures; with short tempers and brute strength. There was no telling what they would do and so for once, the best course of action was to stay hidden and stay quiet. 

Two things that were never Loki’s favorite to do, but it was necessary now. The Giants were wary of where they were, obviously eager to leave. They were larger than any he’d seen, their skin different than the Frost Giants in ways the books that Loki had studied had never seemed to be able to capture. They were also never allowed entry to other realms, without the knowledge and permission of the King. 

And Loki knew - with a burning certainty - that Thor had not allowed this. Giants with enough intelligence to outwit the King? Impossible. Even if it were _Thor_ being said King. 

Loki’s eyes tightened as he watched the procession pass; his brows drawing together. Two impossibilities in so short a time. There was something powerful at work here and this “something” was interfering with the other realms too it seemed.

Something _other_ than him, which was a pleasant surprise. Though he was sure there were many others that would not see it that way. There were possibly thousands of ways they could think of to blame this on him. 

The scribes were murmuring under their breath as they passed Loki, continuing regardless of the orders to stop. For all their powers of foretelling, could they have not have prophesied this attack on their own home? Or had they? And had done nothing of it but to sit and wait? As his mother must have. She was a Vanir Sister herself, after all. 

The sudden, hair-raising feeling of being watched hit him then and he glanced up to meet the eyes of one such scribe. He froze, a feeling of blind panic overwhelming him, and he braced for her call of alarm. But she merely stared at him through the grass as she was pulled by the rope, her gaze never unwavering, and Loki could not bring himself to even blink. 

His heart thudded as she watched him. She had knowing eyes, brown in colour, and they almost seemed to see into him which unnerved him to no end. 

Slowly he nodded at her, unsure of what she was looking for in him and she looked away then, letting her hood fall back into place as she bowed her head once again. But before she left his view completely, he saw a small smile creep over her lips, the slightest glint of teeth showing and it startled him. 

The band passed quickly. Leaving the last of the beasts to shove any, that had dared to stop, along until they reached the edge of the trees. To the clearer path beyond. 

If this path had been taken and exploited, then Loki would have to find another route out of the forest. Another route _away_ from any Giants. 

He waited a moment, until he was sure it was safe that nothing more would come this way before rising to his feet. All his senses were alert and wired. If there were Storm Giants in Vanaheim, then there could be Trolls also. Ulik may have brought his beasts from Nornheim and alerted others of his actions so they could follow in suit. And the same could be said for the Storm Giants letting others follow them from Jotenheimr. He crossed the path as quickly as he could, his movements flustered and hurried, but nothing saw him and nothing attacked him.

No longer in danger of finding a Vanir’s arrow in his heart, he was now very much in danger of being brutally killed by any Giants that found him here. 

He almost pitied Stark, still unconscious all those miles behind and so helplessly mortal. He was likely dead by now, anyway. 

Loki had barely walked even more than a mile before the sound of distressed whinnying carried over to his ears and, for the first time in months, a genuine smile crept over his lips as he followed the sound quickly. 

There were four of them. All sleek white and pristine and he shushed them quickly when they neighed at him haughtily, tossing their heads. 

They must be so used to women. 

Loki placed a palm on the golden-maned mare, feeling the hot breath blow from her nose as he murmured soothingly to her. She eventually quieted and the others followed her example, grounding their hooves warily. He mounted her saddleless back easily, wrapping his fingers around the bronze rein and digging his feet into her side. At the click of his tongue against his teeth, she began to plod forwards.

She rode quite beautifully: with all the grace of a queen and the eagerness of a newborn, even with the cautiousness of one used to battle. She was a prize, a Vanaheim Nobles’ horse, and for Loki to have her was both a gift and a crime. 

The forest didn't seem so compressed now that he was on horseback. He would never again enter it again of his own free will but he no longer felt like destroying each and every thorn that scratched at his face and hands. 

As a child, he had memorised the landscape of each and every realm, but after all that had happened recently he had to hesitate once or twice. Eventually, the trees began to thin and he found another path - dirt-tracked and worn - but far from where he’d last seen the Giants travel. 

And it was as he urged the mare over the path, turning her away from the trees, that he sensed he was being followed. 

He’d had a feeling for a while now but at a crack from off to his left, that feeling was all but confirmed. He restrained himself from pausing, because there was no problem with this, he could handle this.

Whoever it was following him would regret it.

Slowly, he twisted the reins in his hands to turn the mare’s head to the right instead, giving the impression that he was continuing on without a worry.

He reached the bushes at the edge of the path and slid off of her, hushing her snort of protest by rubbing his thumb over her nose reassuringly. He then led her by foot to hide amongst the trees. 

Using crafted rein to tie her to the thickest branch he could see, he used that same branch to hoist himself up to the next, climbing until he was crouched but a head taller than the horse and he peered through his now perfect view of the path he'd just ridden through. 

And he waited. 

Another horse emerged not a moment after. It was white like his, but with a brown mane instead. This horse was slow - older than his - and it plodded over the dirt just as an old woman would with a cane. It’s rider was wearing the cloak of a scribe, keeping themselves hooded and concealed as they glanced about for him.

Why would a scribe choose to follow _him_? 

He frowned as he watched both the horse and Master. It wasn’t of import as to why they'd followed him, all that mattered now was that they had in the first place. 

Loki gripped the branch beside him for balance when he swayed and the wood splintered under his hands. 

The rider's head turned sharply in his direction, but before they could even begin to try and urge their horse to a canter, Loki lunged at them from the tree. He caught the scribe by the waist and toppled them both over the horse; letting himself take the brunt of the fall. 

He rolled them over, pinning them down under him. They were rigid beneath him, the soft material of the cloak giving away their gender easily. Scribes were not known for their strength so it was easy to hold her down, but they were putting up quite a fight. He wrenched the hands off of him and held them above the hooded face. 

“Why are you following me?” He demanded, letting enough force bleed into his voice. They didn’t answer, and only struggled all the more, “Why do you follow me, scribe.” 

He pressed them down deeper into the rocks beneath their back, knowing that it would hurt them enough, that they would see sense and answer his question.

But the hissed curse that followed it was pained, yes, but it was also very decidedly _male_. 

He paused. For just a second. 

Then, growling he yanked the hood off - ignoring Stark's yelp when his hair was caught along with it - to meet wide blue eyes that stared into his own blazing ones. “Answer me, _Stark_.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you notice any 'Nine Realm' facts that have been twisted a little, it's all very purposeful. Trust me.


	3. Taken hold and taken away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _This grove, that was now so peaceful, must have then rung with cries, I thought; and even with the thought I could believe I heard it ringing still."_

Stark grit his teeth when Loki pushed him down further to prevent any movement. 

He was breathing heavily, winded from the fall, and he bit his lip as he tried to find the words, “My team’s still on Asgard,” He finally bit out. And then paused, “Or somewhere else, some of them. I figured that’s where you were headed and since I needed to get back too, I followed you,” 

In the presence of an immortal, of a _God_ that could wrench his pretend heart out without a seconds hesitation, and he still had that tone when talking with him. At least he no longer seemed to think the incident on Asgard had been Loki's doing, unless he was keeping that to himself for now while it suited him, “Is that an okay explanation for you? Can you maybe get off of me now?” 

Loki tightened his grip on Stark’s hands, feeling the bones grind together between his fingers. Stark’s eyes widened but he didn't cry out. “Is ... that a no?” His voice was shaky now at least. So there was fear there, not as much as he was used to, but some. He leant in closer, watching as Stark recoiled; pushing his head into the grass to create more distance between their faces.

“I want you to listen very closely to me Stark,” He hissed at him, enjoying how Stark's eyes almost shut in a flinch, “You will stay away from me. You will not follow me and you will not tell anyone else that you have seen me. I have no intention of showing you my routes to Asgard and you should find yourself lucky that I am choosing not to waste my time with killing you,” Stark gasped quietly when his wrists were pressed even harder but he didn't look away, didn't give any more reaction than that, “And if I find you again - when I _do_ have more than enough time on my hands - I will gladly waste that time by driving a knife through your head,” Stark stared at him, his eyes slightly dilated, but he looked anything but respectful.

“ ... Gotcha.” Was his quiet answer however, and that was satisfactory enough.

Loki pushed himself off of him, smiling when the movement caused Stark to grimace again at the feel of the rocks digging into his back. It was a clear threat what he’d said, clear enough to not be ignored. However, as he untied the mare from the tree, Stark was already clambering to his feet and approaching him.

“Threats aside,” Loki leveled him with an impassive stare. “Do you really know a way out of here?” Something fluttered past Stark's ear, flittering irritatingly similar to an insect, and Stark knocked it aside. The cloak was baggy on his short stature, like a child dressed in adult clothing, “Wherever ‘here’ is.”

Loki turned from him, leading the mare down the path once more. He didn't answer questions from those he'd just shown mercy upon. 

As he walked he patted the mare's warm neck so, when her pulse jumped, he noticed it. Glancing up he could see the stallion Stark had arrived on. It was standing mournfully to one side, but when it noticed Stark getting to his feet, it began to trudge it's way over toward him. Slapping it sharply over the backside, Loki gave it a cruel start, and it stomped it’s hooves down on the mud once in surprise before cantering into the forest away from what had struck it. 

Stark watched it go with an almost lost expression on his face.

“To make certain that you don't follow,” Loki explained, bowing his head in Stark’s direction, and he clicked against his teeth to rouse his own horse to walk on. 

“And why can’t I follow you, exactly?” Stark shouted after him, the anger that Loki had seen in Asgard now overriding his fear apparently, “What's the reason I can’t, other than you just being a selfish _dick_.”

Loki rounded on him, roughly tugging on the mare's rein to turn her with him, “You, Stark, are a mortal. A loud-mouthed, arrogant, and weakly structured _mortal_.” 

Stark blinked, glaring at him, “Okay. Blunt. Thanks for that but - ”

“And if you attract trouble whilst following me, I will not be too far ahead of you to be able to escape either and you can easily guess why I would not want that,” Stark’s mouth shut with a snap but he didn't relax his raised shoulders, “There are things at work here that not even your supposed _elite_ mind can hope to understand and things here that you will most certainly not be able to fight back against. So I suggest that you stay here,” He was simply glared at again in answer, as if that would solve everything. He continued on, anyhow, lowering his voice to a thrum. “And raise your voice at me like that again, I will gladly send whatever hears you to _hunt_ in your direction,” Turning away once more, Loki began to put more distance between them. The mare was slightly wary of him now after seeing his anger, but she followed him easily enough.

“If there are things here that I can’t fight against, then instead of following you, can’t I just go _with_ you?”

“No.”

“You can’t just leave me here!” Loki clenched his jaw, cursing the loss of his magic, and wishing he could use it to seal Stark’s mouth. 

“And why not?” He asked dryly, "I owe you nothing Stark, and in case you can't remember, I hate you and your kind. Especially your little team."

“Yeah but -" Stark cut himself off, biting his lip, and Loki huffed and continued on, "Wait! I can help you!” Stark called after him, his desperation and panic at being left alone here, showing quite clearly now. Loki closed his eyes for a moment, trying to call upon some strength within him to stop himself from strangling Stark. But on second thoughts, why not?

“And how, Stark,” He spun slowly to face the fuming mortal, lifting one eyebrow as he did. “Could you ever hope to - ” Something collided into his lower back and he stumbled forwards, letting a raspy gasp slip out of his mouth along with a short cry of pain. The mare reared up beside him, kicking her legs in the air, before jumping clean over Loki’s bent body and running straight into the forest. Stark’s yell was what made him look up again, and there - surrounding the both of them - were four Storm Giants. 

Not unlike the ones he’d seen before. 

Blind panic filled him for but a moment as he took in the ugly faces that were fixed on him. He straightened, still feeling the pain of one of their clubs - which was what must have hit him - and moulded his face into the bored and unaffected mask that he’d perfected over his long life.

“Odinson,” The tallest growled, a deep vibrating sound that burned into Loki’s core. “You are forbidden to enter here.” 

Loki almost snorted. Of all things to say ... 

“And here I thought that, that only applied to you,” He kept his voice calm and kept his hands outstretched. There was no way for any of them to know that he could not use his magic just yet so what else to do but pretend he had that power in his fingers. Stark was in the grip of the third Giant to Loki’s right. His feet were off the ground with his arms straining in the Giants one fist, his feet kicked out as he struggled. It was clear from his expression that he was trying to think a way out of this situation, probably using only his knowledge. A logical mind, as Barton had told him all those years ago; constantly planning and calculating.

“ _We_ did not kill a King.” Another answered for their leader, spinning it’s club in it’s hand. 

“I did not kill Odin.” Loki’s voice was clear in the quiet, all other creatures having hushed when they’d sensed a threat was nearby. That should have alerted Loki as well, nature’s clue to danger, but Stark had been a distraction. 

“We do not speak of Odin, Liesmith, the King was old and he died of age.” Well then. That changed a lot. But Storm Giants did hail from the same realm as the Frost Giants. There was obviously the notion that they would both be loyal to the same King.

“Laufey had what was coming to him.” Whether they agreed or not, the Giants tensed at his words, the wood in their clubs cracking when their grips tightened. It was then that Stark chose his moment to try and wrench his arms out of his captor's grip. He came close, Loki would admit that to himself, but the crack that echoed in the forest accompanied by Stark’s scream threw that thought out of his mind. Stark was released and he fell to his knees; his left arm now limp.

“Mortals are forbidden, also.” The ‘Leader’ recited, flicking Stark in the stomach. The force of it dropped the already injured man further to the ground. 

"Then kill him," Loki shrugged, taking a step back. Stark could turn out to be a sufficient distraction to warrant his own escape. Anything from Jotunheim enjoyed killing and if it was not him they were after, then he could use that to his advantage, "I would not remorse over him." Stark raised his head to glare at him and it was surprising how someone so small could look so murderous.

"You bastard," Stark gasped out, holding his broken arm against his chest, "Barton was right. There's nothing in you worth saving," He was kicked from behind and he staggered forward, the elbow of his uninjured arm catching his fall. He pushed himself up, looking back at the Giant that had kicked him, “Save your kicking for him, why don’t you. He’s the one you fucking hate,” The smallest Giant laughed, a taunting shout. Not unlike Loki’s whenever he was sneering at another. 

It hit his chest like a knife.

"Kill him," The leader ordered, cutting the laughter off, and Stark struggled to get to his feet. To run. To live. 

The Third knocked him onto his chest so easily it was almost as laughable as what Stark had said. When he tried to get back up, the foot of the second Giant pressed him back down into the mud. And kept pressing. 

Loki stepped back when their gazes were all pinned to Stark. If he could reach the trees behind him, he could easily turn and run. Forests were easy places to hide in, if he could get away from them all first. 

On the ground, Stark gagged and choked, floundering like a fish out of water as he could breathe nothing in but mud and dirt. 

Drowning on dry land. What a horrible way to die. 

Loki looked away from him, letting the silence be filled with his whimpering, but before he could take another step back the Giants fixed their gazes on him yet again. He froze, before quickly straightening, folding his arms across his chest.

"And what," He drawled, "Do you plan to do with me, then." Perhaps it was that he still sounded so unimpressed with it all, that the Giants rolled their shoulders menacingly. They were expecting him to fight, as he usually did when confronted, and this time he would not disappoint. He leant forward on the balls of his feet, bracing for the attack that was just baiting it’s breath, but - 

"Murderers of Kings should have trial," The answer came from behind him and Loki’s blood froze within him, his hands falling heavily to his side. A small trickle of fear slid down his spine as each and every limb on his body grew rigid. 

Ulik. _Damn._

Loki felt the scabbed fingers of the Troll find his collar and the grip was used to hoist him off of the ground. As though he was a prize that had just been won. He cursed in his head. Without magic, with no weapon at his disposal, Ulik was an adversary he could not defeat. And now he found himself at his mercy, "But _Liars_ are undeserving of one."

Loki swallowed. “Ulik.” He greeted, even with his back to the Troll. Ulik grunted in reply, the sound lecherous and sickeningly triumphant.

“Loki.”

After all his efforts of avoiding even one Giant and he’d attracted the attention of a Troll. A Troll that had been capable of bringing even Thor down when he'd been wearing his bands. 

Bands that Loki could see quite clearly in the corner of his eye, wrapped around both his meaty wrists. No magic, no weapon. Nothing but his mind. 

He had to think, he had to _trick_ , he - 

Loki's eyes flickered down to Stark. The Giant holding him down had moved his foot from pressing down on Stark’s back to pressing on his head. And he was no longer moving.

If they had killed him, then there was an advantage he could use here. One that may have Ulik second guessing himself. 

And if Stark were alive still, well. He didn't exactly have to play along.

"I do hope your Giants have not killed the Mortal, Ulik," He kept his tone as pleasant as he could whilst being choked by his own collar. 

"We are not _his_ Giants." The Giant standing on Stark growled and his foot must have pressed harder in his irritation at Loki’s words because Stark twitched beneath it, his entire face still hidden in the mud.

"You told them to kill him Trickster, do not think me so stupid," Uliks breath reeked of raw fish. "I heard you." Loki’s chest began to heave from the lack of air in his lungs. He could breathe well enough but most of it was being cut off by Ulik’s grip on his neck. He had to talk fast before he couldn't talk at all.

"Well, I am the God of Lies. I had to tell them something, didn't I." A harsh blow from the side knocked whatever breath that was in him out, and he had to rein in his anger to stop it getting him killed. He was helpless right now, with no magic, and no Thor - dare he even think it. 

His words were all he had now and if Ulik hit him like that again, he’d lose even that, "If he is killed by your hands, Thor will have your heads." One of the Giants snorted at that, but at Loki’s grave look, the others began to murmur; shuffling around uncertainly. 

Ulik growled in his ear, sensing his manipulation already, just as another Giant asked: "And why should Thor care for a mortal?"

Loki’s mouth curled into something similar to a smile, as he met the Giant’s gaze. 

"Because," Loki said. "That ‘mortal’ is the Man Of Iron." 

At his words, the Giant atop of Stark lifted his foot so abruptly, it's loss of balance shook the ground. And on that ground, Stark sucked in a shaky galleon of air. 

 

************************* 

It took awhile for Stark to regain his breath properly and he still couldn't stop the shuddering in his shoulders. 

He was much like a limp sack, slung over the shoulder of the broadest Giant with his eyes only barely open and mud caked over his face. Loki, however, was forced not only to walk but to be dragged along by a thin black cord tied around both his wrists, the leather tight against his already raw wounds from Thor. He let himself be led, his eyes on the bands over Ulik’s wrists and his feet scraping over the dirt as he was pushed along. Ironic, that he’d seen the women from before in a similar position no more than an hour ago.

“Where are you taking us?” Of course. Even after such a close encounter with his death, Stark could never seem to be able to close that mouth of his. Loki looked up at him from behind, and found that Stark was already looking at him. He kept his face blank, seeing that Stark was already doing the same. Or at least, attempting to. The pain in his eyes from his arm was obvious, and clearly couldn't be hidden. The Giant holding him answered Stark in a surprisingly soft tone, “To the caves.” 

“Caves? Why? What’s in the caves?” 

_What is usually in caves, fool?_

Loki almost spat that answer out at him but Ulik apparently had the same patience as Loki had for Stark. He stopped walking and turned to Stark’s Giant with a set face. 

“Silence him, or he will not stop,” However childish he felt doing so, Loki glared at Ulik’s back as he began to stride over the marshes once again. The ropes were tugged harder whenever Ulik quickened his pace and Loki had no doubt in his mind that the pain it inflicted on his wrists was savagely purposeful. When one Giant ripped a leaf off of a tree and jostled Stark around to shove it into his mouth, Stark panicked. He flopped over the Giant’s shoulder in an attempt to look around at Ulik and to turn his face away from the makeshift gag.

“No, don’t. I won’t say another word, I promise,” When Ulik said nothing and didn't repeat the order, the Giant tossed the leaf over his shoulder and Stark relaxed again. Whatever his fear was for not being able to breathe, he’d already made it far too obvious for it not to be used against him. It was a wonder he’d ever survived on his own in Midgard, “I’ll shut up.” He promised one more time.

“I highly doubt that.” The rope was jerked and Loki toppled onto his knees for speaking. He grit his teeth, his skin grazed and bruised even more now, and slowly regained his footing only to be pulled forward again. Like _cattle_. He returned his gaze to the ground, preferring to look at the creatures at his feet rather than the beasts leading him to these “caves”. Where he could only guess at what would happen there. After both the captives caught wind of the consequences of them speaking, they journeyed in silence from then on. 

At one point, after hearing the voices of travellers not far from them, Ulik ordered the Giant flanking Loki to scout ahead and to “bring them to the caves”. 

After a grunting argument, the Giant agreed to follow Ulik’s command - as any would when faced with that Troll - and the screams of the people it found followed them as they continued on without him. One Giant gone and still no chance of escape. The thought rested bitterly in the back of Loki’s throat, leaving a foul taste of defeat. 

“We are here.” 

Stark was dropped, quite literally, onto the ground in a heap and made to stand. He stumbled about like a newborn foal, unsteady on his feet and weary from the hours of travel and a rope similar to Loki’s was twisted around his wrists. Loki ignored his pained hisses as his injured arm pulled forward, and chose to survey the cave they were outside of instead. Still tied to Ulik, he couldn't move far but he didn't need to. He’d escaped from worse situations with nothing but his hearing intact before and if he’d learnt anything from those times, it was the importance of knowing your surroundings. 

“What is the purpose of all these caves?” Ulik turned to him, a sneer curling over his mouth, but he didn't ignore the question. 

“The warriors of this realm used to hold tournaments here,” Loki resisted telling Ulik that he was well aware of that historical fact, “We have taken these caves as our own and now our games are played instead.” 

Games? There was only one such games a Troll would enjoy playing.

“Let me guess,” He said, dryly, his teeth clacking together in disdain, “The Vanir of this realm are captured by you and made to fight to the death in these _games_ of yours.” In his peripheral sight he saw Stark snap his head up from where he was awkwardly trying to wipe the mud off of his face. 

“Their women are amusing fighters,” Was Ulik’s casual reply, and Loki resisted the urge to just hurt him. Frigga may not be his birth mother but he loved her as such, and as a Vanir woman that insult was personal on a level Ulik knew. Which was exactly why he would not rise to it’s bait.

“And do you ever take part, Ulik?” The laugh that followed sent Loki’s skin crawling but he kept his gaze cool and collected. Ulik untied the rope from his own wrists, rolling a boulder over it’s end to pin it down as he spoke.

“If this is your attempt to goad me, Liesmith,” Ulik stomped back toward Stark, taking the rope holding him and pulling the mortal forward. “Then it is even worse than your last attempt to,” Stark stared at him from behind Ulik, curious despite the situation, and Loki stared back at him. 

Better him than Ulik. 

“Which, may I remind you,” Loki stiffened when Ulik turned his grey gaze on him instead of the rope, no laughter evident anymore, “That ended very badly for you _then_ just as it will now.” 

“Then I suppose it's a good thing that I was not goading you,” Ulik grunted once, wrapping the end of the rope attached to Stark around his fingers. Loki didn't move, nor struggle, unlike Stark who was already twisting his hands in the rope. There would be time and opportunity later. There always was, and if there wasn’t, he could easily make some for himself.

“So I guess that means," Stark said, his eyes on Loki. "We’re here to fight?” Ulik looked down at him in vague amusement. Stark looked sour at the thought of others being reduced to such a thing as fighting each other for their own survival but Loki knew Midgard was no better in it's own history. Or even now, in many ways. “To fight, in one of your ‘games’.” Loki rolled his eyes.

“No, Stark. Not we,” He said in a sigh. “Just you.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ulik is a powerful Troll that has defeated Thor a lot in the comics. He's very strong and has Uru [The metal that made Thor's hammer] in bands that he wears on his wrists. He and Loki have a bad, _bad_ history.


	4. Do not underestimate me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _'Why, O why did I ever leave my hobbit-hole!' said poor Mr Baggins bumping up and down on Bombur's back._ "

Stark couldn't sleep. His insomniac mind was possibly the most irritating thing Loki had come across because when Stark can’t sleep he thinks and when he thinks he thought loudly. 

“Stark. Rest assured that if my hands were not bound, they would be around your neck right now,” The light shuffling that Stark had been constantly making with his hands stilled and suddenly Loki's vision was covered by bright eyes and dark hair. He blinked sharply, his eyes struggling to focus when Stark didn’t stop moving, curling his legs beneath him to sit closer to Loki.

“Good, you’re awake.” Loki raised an eyebrow at him silently, “Now get me the hell out of these,” Loki sat up, pushing himself up the wall he was propped against further, putting some distance between Stark and himself. The chains on his own wrists rattled at the movement and the memories they stirred pricked at the back of his mind. Stark watched him move away, his eyes never unblinking and Loki was reminded, quite suddenly, of a younger and kinder Amora. Curious, demanding, and able to grab his attention; even if it was for all the wrong reasons.

“If I could get them off, do you not think I would have done so to myself already?” Stark met his gaze over what little light they had and then looked away. The darkness of the bolted hole seemed just as suffocating as the darkness of their forced travel from Asgard. It was empty, void, and all it did was curl each and every thought that Loki had shoved from his mind, back into it. Sleep had always brought bad thoughts for him but here, it brought questions without answers and these questions mounted each other; until he couldn’t even decipher which ones he was meant to seek answers for.

He leant his head on the wall, feeling the warmth bleeding from the forging fire that must be behind it. Beside the _hole_ \- or whatever it was they’d been thrown into - were almost a hundred Trolls clanking metal together along with around a dozen Storm Giants. 

When they’d been dragged here, Loki had seen no Frost or Ice Giants but in this heat, it had been unlikely to begin with. He had, however, seen one Mountain Giant. 

It had been chained in the corner, rocking back and forth on it’s heels and whimpering behind it's teeth. Driven mad, clearly. By what, Loki didn't wish to know. He himself had practically been ignored by the Giants that had led them away and, surprisingly, it had been Stark who had gained all the attention instead.

Being an ally of Thor’s occasionally meant either death or humiliation but for Stark it seemed that they wanted both. 

Now, it was night and in the dawn Stark was to fight with the rest of those captured to the death. But before, he had been untied and pushed in the direction of the Mountain Giant, with a plate of food that had been quickly and unceremoniously shoved toward him in his hands. The Giants had jeered at his struggles and his shouts, and the sounds had roused the insane beast until it was roaring and lunging for the food. Stark had frozen then, staring at the Giant and had slowly, almost delicately, handed the food over. His lack of fear and screams had stopped the ‘fun’ then, and the both of them had been thrown face-first into this hole. Where even Loki could feel the cold biting into his bones. 

Stark huddled into himself, the glow of his chest illuminating his eyes in the dark, “So you can’t do it either. Perfect.” He angrily rattled the chains with one hand as though he were hoping the Giants guarding them would even remotely go upon the lines of thinking for themselves and coming to see what the racket was, “Oh for - This is _really_ not how I wanted to die.”

“Then how did you envision yourself dying then Stark.” Loki drawled slowly, tilted his head down to look at him, “In a long-lived battle, covered in blood?”

Stark snorted, “Uh, _no_.” The chains stopped their incessant rattling and Stark wrapped his arms around his knees tighter, shivering in the cold, “I was kinda hoping for something more along the lines of quietly and painlessly in my sleep.” Loki laughed at that notion, turning his gaze to the rocks above them. Stark glared at him, muttering to his knees. “Sorry we don’t all have aspirations to die like King Arthur.” 

Loki closed his eyes in response, his head and back still erect, and the blue of Stark’s chest glimmered behind his eyelids. Tomorrow, Stark would fight and die and Loki would either be made to watch and be executed after the entertainment or be executed as the first death of the day before any fighting had even began. 

He’s slept knowing that he was to die the next day many times before. There was nothing to say that he couldn't do it again.

“If you _could_ escape,” Loki opened one eye to peer through the darkness at Stark. The man wasn’t looking at him but at his feet instead, and his eyes were focused on something that Loki couldn’t see, “Would you take me with you?”

Loki closed his eyes again. “No.”

“Right. Just checking.”

Loki resigned himself to a night without sleep.

***********************

Dawn brought warmth, and with it the cold truth of what the day would bring. 

Stark was already on his feet, up and tense, before the Giants had even awoken but Loki remained where he’d sat the entire night. 

If he was to be on his feet for his execution then he refused to wilt from exhaustion, and having not slept this night nor the several he'd to himself on Asgard, he knew that tiring his legs now would only be foolish. Instead he sat, with his chained hands resting on his knees and his eyes following Stark’s pacing. 

He could easily understand the feeling of not wishing to stay still, not when faced with your own death, and so Stark’s fidgeting didn’t really surprise him at all. It just made him all the more nervous. 

Tapping a solitary beat on his knees with a finger, he raised his eyebrows at the mortal, “Tell me, Stark.” He said, his parched throat already rasping and making him grimace, “Would you rather die at my hands or at the hands of the women out there?” Stark snapped his head over to him, the hatred that was always bubbling just below the surface - no matter how he chose to hide it - now rising once again, “Because if you choose me now, I can find no better use of these chains other than to wrap them around your neck.” 

Stark opened his mouth, possibly to display his so-called wit, but the door to the left opened before he could. 

Loki had been staring straight at Stark, for that one whole second, but the next moment he was staring at thin air as the mortal ran past the ogres in a pitiful bid for freedom. He dove away from their huge arms as they made a grab for him and despite his ability to dodge them, he only made it as far as the frame before being caught and flung into the jagged wall. He slid to his knees, dazed and winded. 

Well that had been stupid. Loki blinked, standing in a smooth and single motion, watching as they hoisted Stark to his feet; ignoring his pointless struggling and cursing. Two of them took his chains in hand and pulled Loki alongside him. Obedience has always served him well in the past and he’d learnt that struggling only prolonged harsh affairs. 

Stark has obviously never been taught that lesson. 

The sun stung his eyes as they were pulled out of the hole and into that warm world once again. It was brighter than he remembered from yesterday and squinting did nothing to help his sight. He could see Ulik’s glee well enough, however. Sun be damned. 

The Troll himself was seated in the old Vanir’s main post, able to oversee all that happened in the sand-filled arena below. Beside him Stark had begun to breathe faster, fear overwhelming him now. 

When Ulik rose without speaking and began to trudge down the stairs behind the chair, the Giants followed him and they pulled their captives along with them; tugging whenever one of them paused for even a second.

 ...

“You’ve succeeded in gaining my interest Ulik, I must say.” Loki said as he was tugged forward. Ulik grunted once in reply, “For a Troll such as yourself, to have taken over a realm like Vanaheim is really quite a grand feat to accomplish.” 

They were stopped at the end of the stairs where Ulik simply turned and sat on a wooden platform. Loki was pushed to one side and held tight by a single Troll that must have been waiting there for them, and hands dug into his arms to keep him fixed still, “I’m curious as to how you managed to do so.” He continued anyway, ignoring how he'd been manhandled and pushed around./p>

Ulik stared at him dubiously before turning to one of the Giants and nodding; still not speaking. Immediately, Stark was handed things to wear and equip himself with for the fight. 

“I don’t like to be handed thing,” Was his only response and Loki smirked to himself. 

Bold. For a mortal. 

He was backhanded across the face for it and he slammed into the wall at the force of it. There was blood on his lips now. 

When he still refused to take it, Ulik shook his head at the Giant that had raised it’s club to strike him and the armour was thrown over Stark instead. Watching the Giants take orders so easily from a Troll was even more confusing than seeing Ulik being so calm around him. 

Something had clearly changed around here and he felt worryingly stupid for not noticing it sooner. Though, the Giants from yesterday had not seemed keen on following Ulik. Perhaps there hadn’t been anything to notice at all before, but nothing was making sense anymore. Loki clenched his fists. 

“Vanaheim has been weak for years,” Loki blinked, for a moment startled, before realizing that Ulik was answering his question from before. “I only took from here when I found the opportunity.” 

“And what gave the opportunity?” Ulik smiled at him, turning his gaze to take in Stark’s fumbling as he tried to dress himself in the poorly constructed armor given to him. He didn't answer or say anymore on the subject, so Loki followed his gaze instead. 

The only weapon Stark had been given was a thin and golden knife, along with a wooden shield that looked like it would likely shatter the minute it was struck by anything larger than his own dagger, “How is you managed to conquer this section of Vanaheim with no one ever knowing of it?” Ulik still didn't answer him, choosing to order the Giants around Stark to gather him and take him to the lines below. Where he would be pushed out into the arena, be presented as a victim, and murdered in a ‘fight’ where he would then be left for animals to eat in the forest. 

If they were taking Stark already, then he was running out of time. He needed Ulik's attention.

“I wonder what would happen if Thor were to hear of it.” He said lightly. 

Ulik paused, and with him the Giants did so as well. With a jerk, Ulik turned his head to face Loki's. And he didn't turn away. 

Loki simply smiled at him, his eyes challenging the Troll with something that he knew _had_ to be taken seriously now. Thor's wrath was now the talk of the realms. He should know, Odin's had once been the same. 

“The King is in Asgard.” Loki raised an eyebrow at him. So Ulik didn't know. 

_Interesting_. 

“And you, trickster, are here. You cannot tell him anything.” Loki huffed out a single laugh, watching as Ulik tensed at the sound. A known liar he may be, but he was still always constantly believed by any that read the signs he deliberately left for them.

“As brother to the King, do you really believe that we have no other way of contacting each other when we are between realms?” Ulik’s gaze shifted from unsure to cold, “We would be fools if we didn't.” And there. He had him. He could tell, clearly from the look on his face, that he had Ulik now. 

Baiting Ulik had never turned out well for anyone but by twisting his already insecure doubts, you could easily have him in the palm of your hand.

“What do you want.” He growled, the knuckles in his hands cracking. Loki gave him an innocent look.

“Want? I don’t want anything, Ulik. I only wish to help my brother.” Ulik roared then, his old and usual temper finally filtering through and the hair was blown back from Loki's face. 

And now - finally - Loki had something he could mould. Something he was used to. “What is there you _can_ offer me Ulik. You would never let me go, so why offer something.” Ulik’s fist thumped against the wall and rocks crumbled from the floor above over his head. It was clear to see the thoughts in his head spinning around through him as he struggled to find an answer. 

Loki gave him the impression that he was being patient. Waiting and listening for Ulik to tell him what he would do. 

But then. 

Ulik pinned his gaze to Stark. He stared at him, his black eyes darkening, and the both of them reacted at once. Stark pushed himself away from the wall behind him, dodging to the left but Ulik caught him with a single hand before he could go any further on and held his neck in a hold that had him off the ground. 

“Then I kill him.” 

Stark struggled in mid-air, his legs kicking out and his face slowly flushing from lack of air. His hands scrabbled at the one holding him and he punched at it with his fists, digging his nails in and gasping. Ulik thrust Stark toward Loki, showing him what he was doing, “Tell the King and the mortal dies now. We will not wait for Thor's rescue, and we will not even allow him to fight." Loki looked at him. He'd already known that Stark was going to be sent to the arena, but not because they'd hoped Thor would come rescue him. He'd assumed they wanted a more public death to show off the fact that they had caught one of Thor's allies. 

"Ah -" Stark had tears pricking in his eyes, his face less than five feet from Loki's as he still struggled. Ah well. Loki turned his gaze away, it didn't matter how they wanted to kill him, they would. There was no rescue, Thor had no idea where they were. 

Ulik shook his hand, jolting Stark in his grip, and he lowered his voice as he said one last threat, "I could snap his neck now. It would be easy.”

Loki scoffed, “I care not.” He shrugged then, relaxing his shoulders and feeling the Troll behind him tighten it's hands over his arms, “He’s nothing but a thorn in my side. You’d do me a favour.” Ulik dropped Stark after a moments hesitation, leaving him sprawled and choking on the ground before sliding the golden dagger out of armor's broken sheath. 

He stepped over the coughing mortal, approaching Loki with the knife raised, “I already have the spell in mind." Loki informed him, the steel in his voice covering the lie effectively, "Kill me, and the last thing it will do is send my message to Thor.” Ulik froze, the gold of the knife reflecting over his scarred face before he flung it at the wall. The three inches of it wedged inside the rock with a clang. 

“I will not release you, Trickster.” He growled in Loki’s face, “Not when I have you. Not when I have you at my mercy after so long.” Loki didn't move. This was getting out of hand. 

Loki sighed, if he couldn't bargain for his freedom _directly_ , then perhaps - 

“Then there is something I would like, Ulik.” Ulik’s breathing had grown heavy in his anger and it filled the silence completely while he waited for Loki to continue. Stark had staggered to his feet already but before he could even attempt another escape, a Giant took one of his arms and pulled him into it's chest. He sagged against it, injured and exhausted.

Ulik's eyes darkened when Loki still said nothing, " _What_."

Loki held his head higher, meeting Ulik’s grey eyes squarely. “To fight. In place of Stark in the arena.” 

Clearly that had not been what he'd been expecting. 

“In the circumstances that if I win, I am free to leave.” Stark straightened from where he was, saying something that Loki couldn't hear over the other Giants as they began to laugh at his request. Their hollers were nothing compared to the Warriors Three and it was due to his practice with them that he managed to contain his own anger. He kept his gaze firmly trained on Ulik’s, his hands clenching and unclenching in a false reminder that he could call upon Thor if he ever needed to. 

Ulik’s eyes flickered down to his hands, seeing magic that was not there, and slowly, reluctantly, nodded.

“I accept your circumstances,” He said, “And your exchange,” Loki lifted his chin and nodded sharply, refusing to smile lest Ulik grow even more angry at that and try to take his words back, "But," Loki stiffened. “You will not be fighting those _women_ out there. Warriors in magic they may be, it would be far too easy for you as a mage.” Loki tilted his head at him, still saying nothing but Ulik simply glanced behind him once. “You will fight my own kin instead.” He turned back to Loki, a smile now playing over his ripped lips, “Seven. Of them.” Loki kept his face as impassive as he could imagine when the Giants began to grunt all the more excitedly. Leering at the prospect of seeing such an unfair fight take place for them. “And you will not use your tricks or your magic.” Loki nodded again, twice, and the noise that followed echoed in the tunnels they were in. 

“I accept your terms.” 

Ulik looked severely surprised as he raised his hand to touch Loki’s in mutual agreement, but Loki pulled his back before he could. “With only two questions.”

Ulik narrowed his eyes at him. “Go on.”

“The Trolls I am to fight. Will they be wearing bands such as yours?” Ulik stared down at the bands wrapped around both his wrists, transparently smug.

“Uru is rare.” Loki inclined his head in agreement. “I'd be a fool to give it to any other than myself." He waved a hand at Loki, now completely calm compared to before; where his anger had taken over. With the prospect of seeing Loki dead still so close, of course he was much happier again, "And your second question?"

"Well it's more of another condition than a question."

Ulik frowned. "And it is?"

Loki gestured to the knife in the wall with one hand. "I wish to be able to choose my own weapon." Ulik’s face tightened but their exchange had already been agreed upon. If he felt any unease toward Loki's condition, then there was nothing he could do about it. 

With a tap against the wooden platform behind him, Ulik’s gaze drifted to the sword in the Guards belt. It was huge, deadly, easily able to kill at least one Troll alone. But for seven, he couldn't be sure. Ulik clearly saw it as a threat, however, and that was helpful. "Name it." 

Loki placed his own gaze on the sword, letting Ulik’s blood boil at the thought of him asking for it, but then he abruptly turned away. "A staff.” Ulik straightened, his brows raised. “Preferably made of metal but it need not be, but there must be a speared end or our agreement is void." Ulik didn't hesitate for long and an order was given to the Guard to find one. Loki watched as the Troll lumbered off in search before turning to Ulik again. He nodded once at him and raised his hand for a second time. 

“Challenge made and accepted.” Loki murmured when he met Ulik’s hand between them. 

The touch made his skin crawl but he hid his grimace and pulled his hand back to his side when they were done. Ulik turned away from him fully then and, taking care over the jagged rocks, he walked back up the stairs to his chair. The Giants that remained stood watch over them their captives while Loki waited for his chains to be released. Once they did take them off, he’d have no time to run and would be taken down to the same line that Stark had been so close to being led to. That fate was no longer his now, but Loki's.

And speaking of Stark, "You’re nuts.” Loki looked at him blankly, “You know that don’t you." The bruise from the backhand had blossomed over his face and now covered half his cheek. He was held between the two Giants, one arm in one hand, and seemed even more tightly wound now that he'd no idea what was going to happen to him; now that Loki had taken his place. “ _Seven_ trolls and you’re going to, what? Hit them on the head with a tiny little staff?” The Giants around him agreed in jeers and insults, guffawing at Stark’s bluntness. Their movements almost knocked the mortal to the ground, but there was no alarm or humor in Stark’s gaze when it met Loki's.

Loki smiled at him when the Giants’ laughter died down, “Now that is everyone’s error, Stark,” He said airily. Stark frowned at him, the bruise on his cheek dark compared to the light of the candles on his face, and it made the fire in his eyes all the more pronounced, “I may not be my brother, but you should never underestimate me.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any typos or grammatical mistakes, please do tell me D: This is un-beta'd and I never seem to notice them myself :)


	5. Leave you Far behind.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _To Die would be an awfully great adventure._ "

The arena was among one of the largest that he’d ever seen.

Which, thinking on it now, was decidedly strange seeing as this was Vanaheim and neither the men nor the women here ever saw reason to fight with each other at all, let alone to do it so publicly. 

Sand seeped into Loki's boots as he stood there in the sun, awaiting the pounding beats of the drums that were high above them all. The beats that would signal his opponents’ entrance into the arena. To signal for the fight to begin. The armor that they had given Stark before had been stripped from him to be handed to Loki instead, but he’d turned down the offer. He fought in his own armor or he did not fight at all. 

Stark had called him crazy then, for the second time. And perhaps he was. 

The staff he had accepted, however. It’s metal was cool to the touch, with a sharpened end much like the tip of a sword, and the first thing he’d done was tighten his grip over it accordingly. To accustom himself to it’s weight. He would be swinging it around, after all, and the threat of Thor gave him the benefit of calling for another if he was not happy with the choice. It was light enough, strong and unyielding. But in another's hand, it would most likely only be useful for poking at a fire at night.

He sighed to himself, looking up at the sun.

It no longer stung his eyes as it had before, when he’d first emerged from underground but the glare still irritated them. So much so that he couldn't hold his gaze there for too long. That meant that the only other place he could look at while he waited, was the stands. 

And in them Loki could see Stark quite clearly. However, whenever he met the mortals gaze he was also met with pure and undisguised loathing. And for once, it wasn't aimed at him, but at Ulik. Perhaps on their hatred, they could both agree for once. 

Now that Stark no longer had death as his penalty for being Thor’s ally - and with a simple execution not being entertaining or urgent enough - humiliation had been the answer once again. And humiliation was what Ulik had ordered.

He assumed that Stark’s broken arm had been healed, for he showed no pain in holding such a weighty plate of food as he climbed down numerous steps to offer it to any who demanded it. And of course, those in the stands; Trolls, Giants, and Vanir traitors, had delighted in having an ally to the King at their disposal. It seemed that they were always hungry for Stark’s snacks, whether the fight had begun or not. 

Humiliation. It came in many forms for Ulik. At least it was mild compared to others that could have been chosen. Stark should count himself lucky. There were far worse things than being a trophy slave to a Troll.

A higher glance up, and Loki could see said Troll. 

Ulik was seated in the same chair that they'd seen him in before, spread out and smug as he looked down at Loki. At first, Loki had stood defiant at the edge of the arena, refusing to wilt in the sun’s heat, but after he’d realised how tense he must have looked, he’d changed his stance to leaning casually against the lowest of the stands. With the staff dangling loosely from one hand. He ignored any that were behind him, ignoring those that taunted him and poked at him, knowing that he had been deemed ‘untouchable’ until the actual fight and so there was no actual need to bait another just yet. 

The fight - or 'slaughter' as others had begun to murmur around him - had been scheduled for noon. 

Loki had been standing in the arena just a few hours past dawn. 

He'd plenty of time but that time was not to be spent preparing himself because that was the _fair_ and logical thing to allow him to do. No, his time was to be spent waiting until the Trolls he was to fight finished preparing themselves instead, and were ready and waiting at the gate opposite him. While he himself stood for half the day with no build up of his own.

But if Ulik thought that all this would affect him in the slightest, then he didn't know of any of the things that Loki had been through. Heat may be something that affected him but after Thanos, it would have to be intense to the point of extreme to even harm him at all. And this sun, though achingly hot, was nothing compared. He'd handled much worse and he could handle this. 

There was a reason he had chosen to fight after all.

His thoughts were cut off by a clatter behind him and he blinked sharply when he heard Stark yell, looking up in time to see him punch a single man standing just behind him. 

The strike was hard, and it knocked the man to one side; making him slap a hand to cover the cheek that had been hit. Shocked shouts erupted around them, giving the situation more tension than it needed, until Stark’s furious voice interrupted them all.

“Do that again, and I’ll aim for your crotch instead.” Laughter bubbled around them then, most likely directed at the man who had fallen and it continued even as he stood back up to face Stark. 

How typical of humans. Picking fights with those that they'd no chance against.

Loki narrowed his eyes at the scene, taking in Stark’s flushed and angry face and the mortified glower of the Vanir he’d struck. He'd - 

Wait.

Vanir? 

Loki leant closer. This ‘Vanir’ had hollowed cheeks and sharp, pointed ears, with a scowl to match Stark’s own. He was tall but thinner than he should be, and he carried weapons. 

This wasn't a Vanir. This was an Alfheim _elf_. 

Loki frowned, as he squinted up at it. 

What was an elf doing here, of all places? 

Elves were loving creatures, preferring peace over anything else. It was understandable why one would choose to visit Vanaheim but to come to an arena, to be _accepted_ into an arena. That was not just strange, it was something that had never been done. At least not to Loki’s knowledge.

As he watched, he saw the elf in question shrug off the hand of his kin and start toward Stark for revenge. He was held back by another that was seated however, and was forced to sit back down. The other two elves were more timid than this one, more watchful of the Trolls seated around him which made a lot more sense and it suggested that they knew the Trolls didn't appreciate their presence here. 

Well of course not, they were _elves_. Three elves in a Vanaheim arena.

_Thor. What have you been missing._

Stark was pushed on to continue with his duties after the disruption had distracted him and as he picked up the plate of food from where he must have set it, he cast his eyes down and caught Loki watching him. 

And Loki did the first thing he thought suitable after what had just happened. He smirked up at him.

Stark didn't respond in any way and simply began to walk down the stairs once again. He reached the lower stands and, after a moments hesitation, started to head toward Loki. The plate was held between both his hands and he cringed whenever he was stopped by others grabbing him to demand whatever it was he had on his dish. 

Loki didn't take his eyes off of him, giving the pretense that he was bored. Mostly because, in truth, he was. Though. There was a little stir of curiosity in him now. 

Stark’s approach was obvious but no one did or said anything to stop it. Even so, Loki could feel Ulik staring down at them both, and that feeling pricked at the back of his neck in unease.

When Stark finally reached him, he kept the plate of food facing those behind him so that they could still eat without needing him to turn around.

They had taken the scribes cloak from him and had replaced them with fabric worthy only for slaves. Loki roamed his gaze over him, noticing that the humiliation had not just stopped with Stark’s duties but with his clothing also. 

The shirt had clearly been made for someone taller and wider than him but someone had sliced the hem clean off to make it smaller; making the shoulder slid off on one side. 

The trousers stopped at the knee and were skin tight and made of cotton leather, very uncomfortable to walk in - or even to wear - in this heat. He raised his face to look directly at Stark then, noticing the small cut he had below one eye.

“When you told them I was Thor’s 'ally', is this what you had in mind.” Stark hissed at him, his tanned skin still flushed from whatever had happened with that elf. Loki could guess anyway and the notion amused him that someone like Stark could get so offended by something so trivial. “Are you happy now.”

“Am I happy you're a slave now?” Loki summarised, coolly. He rest his chin in one hand, pursing his lips together thoughtfully. “I feel nothing about it either way,” He grinned then, slowly. “Save for the satisfaction one does get with vengeance.” Stark pulled away from him, a snarl on his lips.

“Just so you know,” He began, his eyes becoming slits in his anger. “When you die out there -”

“ _If_ I die out there.”

“- I’m going to be the one starting all the cheering.” 

Loki raised an eyebrow at that, surprised despite himself, but before he could open his mouth to reply a single beat on the drums sounded. 

Stark looked up at the same time as he did, and the entire arena grew deadly silent. Loki slowly pushed off of the stand, spinning around on his heels to face the opposite gate once again. 

He found Ulik’s bloodthirsty gaze above him and bowed his head at it mockingly; in acknowledgement that he was ready. Another beat sounded and when Loki looked back down, the iron gate began to slide upwards. The rust screeched with every inch that shifted and for a moment it was the only sound in the arena.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Stark straighten at the sight that met them all but Loki merely stepped out into the centre for the second time that day. He held his staff at the ready as his opponents thumped their way out of their cage.

Cage. 

Loki’s chest constricted in realization as he took in what he'd been dumb to before. 

Of course. 

How could he have blindly agreed to Ulik’s condition without checking for loopholes.

His eyes scanned over the trolls before him with a new, spiking sense of panic spreading through him. 

He wasn't fighting any warriors - or even any arena champions - which was what any would have expected. He was fighting those that even the Trolls had become wary of and had locked away for their own safety. Beasts with no minds and with no morals. Half mad with their love for killing. 

He was fighting monsters. 

There were only two that emerged out before the cage slid shut once again. The other five clawed at the bars, their fingers reaching for Loki as they roared for his blood. The two that were in the arena were already held back by chains, their throats bulging as they strangled themselves in their collars; trying to run toward him. 

He swallowed, quickly assessing anything he could notice about them and focusing on any weak points that he could see. The arena was still silent as they all awaited the final beat of the drums to start and spittle from the Troll nearest Loki sprayed over his face as it snarled at him. 

Loki’s grip tightened over the staff and he held it higher. His knuckles were white around it. 

This had not been part of his plan. 

He'd expected Ulik to go back on his word and to try to refuse setting Loki free when he'd won; as had been part of their bargain.

He'd not expected him to try and make him _lose_ in the first place. He looked up at Ulik then, noticing the grotesque grin on his face and the blood inside him boiled and rose. If he thought that two maddened Trolls would be the end of Loki - 

Well.

If all those watching were prepared for a ‘slaughter’, then a slaughter they would have. Loki could adapt to any changes in plans, he always had. This was merely a setback. He could still win this. 

He slowly slid one foot over the sand until it was bent at the knee, one step behind his other. 

He then crouched, the staff still held in both hands and he closed his eyes. Seconds trickled by and all he could hear were the growls of the Trolls before him, followed by the shouts of those in the stands that now assumed that Loki’s new position meant that he was choosing to surrender already. That he was not even going to fight. 

He kept his eyes closed, drowning out those other sounds with his own breathing and his own thoughts. 

And somewhere, in the midst of all the noise, a drum beat sounded. 

Begin.

The Trolls were released and they wasted no time. The smallest of the two reached Loki first, it’s large hand raised to swipe at him.

Judging his timing carefully, Loki propelled himself off of his bent leg, jumping a some feet into the air, and landing on the hand just as it slammed into the ground. He drove the staff into an eye, and scaled the Troll's arm as it howled at Loki’s attack. The jeers of those in the crowd echoed in his ears but the rushing in his head drowned it. Adrenaline was always an excellence conductor for him, and it wasn't disappointing him now. 

The second Troll made a grab for him as well but when Loki dodged it, it ended up hurling itself at the other instead and was knocked aside. 

Kicking off of the Trolls arm, Loki spun in the air and swung the staff around in a full circle above his head. It collided with a sickening crunch into the back of the smallest Troll's head - right where Loki had been aiming - and after a long and confused pause, the beast dropped to it’s knees. It’s hands fumbled behind it’s head, coming away darkened with blood, and it fell with a lack of any grace onto it’s face in the sand.

There were no cheers at this first death but he didn’t let that deter him. 

Why should he. The only one who cared for his well-being here, was him himself. 

The second Troll had picked itself up by now and it lumbered toward him, drool dribbling out of it’s open mouth. Loki charged toward it, keeping the staff erected behind his back and changing direction whenever the Troll aimed for him with its meaty hands. If the first had fallen from that one strike, then any other weak points could be just as effective. He stabbed the staff down into the hand of the Troll when it came very close to his person and slammed it into the back of it’s head when it tried to free it’s hand. 

With it’s head bent, the blow had been almost too easy. 

He had no time to catch his breath however, for after the death of both his opponents, the gate was opened once more and none of the Trolls were held back this time.

All five raced out of the cage, their arms outstretched and their mouths gaping wide. 

Loki backed into the middle of the arena, killing the first that reached him by thrusting the sworded end of the staff into it’s enlarged belly. Blood spilled out over his arms but he ignored it in favour of yanking the staff out and driving the same end into the Troll behind him. They had surrounded him but he was a lot smaller than they were and slipped past them easily. They were crazed in their hunger for killing, a manic glare to each of their eyes, and that rage was also their disadvantage.

He baited two Trolls after him, leading them toward the lower stands and smirking at the screams of those watching when they approached. He pushed off of the stands’ panel with one leg and drove the staff into the neck of the first one he caught. The spray of blood blinded the Troll behind it and Loki sliced open it’s chest with the sworded staff, letting the crowd watching see close hand what real death looked like. The Troll thumped forwards, half leaning against the fragile panels of the stand and the spectators there retreated away from it. 

Loki turned away with a sigh, facing all that was left. 

He had killed six. That left one. 

The Troll in question was the smallest of them and it looked almost young in comparison. It was already bleeding which meant it must have gotten caught in the fight one way or another. 

Laying on one side in the sand, it looked up at Loki with wide eyes, looking for some kindness to quicken it’s death. 

Loki held the staff loosely and plunged it into the Troll's heart. With a single, last breath, it died. Loki let out a rushed exhale of relief, holding the staff up to show his triumph and clenching his jaw. 

_Slaughter_ over.

He raised his eyes to look at Ulik, to demand his freedom as their bargain had decreed but the Troll was no longer in his seat. 

Loki scanned the crowd for him, cracking his knuckles when his hands curled into fists. That twice lying - 

“Look out - !” 

At that shout, Loki ducked hastily. A spear shot over his back and landed, upright, in the sand. 

He spun around to face his attacker and saw the elf from before, hooting insults at him from the higher stands as he grabbed another spear. 

Stark was standing beside the Troll that had fallen against the stands and his mouth was still open, a clear indication that it had been he who had warned Loki. Taking a step toward the stands where the elf was, an arrow narrowly avoided him. He jumped back, avoiding three more before knocking the rest aside with a swing of his staff. 

Ulik was still nowhere to be seen and with the spectators in the stands now actively trying to kill him, his last order must clearly have been to kill Loki. 

_This_ he had expected.

Loki dove over the lower stands, pushing past Stark and racing up the steps that led to Ulik's throne. 

A Vanir woman lunged at him when he reached the top but he pushed her off of the edge; not bothering to see whether she was killed in the fall or not. Now that he was in the stands - instead of in the arena as an easy kill - there was complete turmoil around him. 

Trolls, elves, Giants and any Vanir that were here willingly, were all either trying to stop him from leaving or running from the look in his eyes. Killing seven trolls singlehandedly with naught but a staff, was usually something only his brother was ever known for. 

With Loki having done so, and having survived it too, the only other explanation was that he was as powerful as the King. And having power equivalent to the King was more than enough reason to stay away.

Compared to the journey to the caves; the fight itself, and all the time between, leaving was perhaps the easiest part of all that had happened. 

He was sweating by the time he reached the mouth of the last cave but he kept the staff held firmly in one hand while he wiped the blood off of his face with the other. 

Certain that there must be others still after him, he quickened his pace until he was at least a good distance away. Running had never been something he had enjoyed but a lifetime of mischief had taught him how to do so very fast. 

He always managed to get away in the nick of time.

Loki slowed down gradually, only jogging now lightly over the mud. He needed rest badly, and time to gather his wits and his breath. 

The forest air was significantly cooler than the uncovered arena and he drank it in deeply; relieved at the change. 

And it wasn't until he was stepping over fallen leaves in the forest that he realized that he was, in fact, being followed by someone. 

He closed his eyes for a second, for he knew that there could only be one person that would be foolish enough to follow him all this way, and at a bitten off curse he ground his teeth together when he was proven correct. 

“I do believe I told you to stay away from me.” Loki said coldly, turning to face Stark. But as he did so, he noticed with a horrible start that the mortal was not alone.

“Yeah, I know.” Stark said, shrugging a him, “I remember.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait :)


	6. A fool's kindess.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _Twas Beauty killed the Beast_ "

.

“So this is how you managed to keep up a pace with me,” Loki drawled, his hands curled at the side. 

Stark jabbed his sword toward him again, in another warning for silence and his eyes burned with pleasure at actually seeing it work. But if Stark had found it so ‘difficult’ to obey anything Loki had said to him before then why should Loki himself be any different? “You made yourself a little pet to carry you here.” 

The Mountain Giant in question was still standing hunched beside Stark and it growled at him when he continued to talk, but a simple shake of Stark’s head made it recoil instead and it slumped back onto the ground. 

Before, it had seemed quite content to merely sit and eat whatever it was that had been found in the stolen bag Stark had with him, but once the food had finished it had grown agitated. And as an outlet for this agitation, Loki had been constantly growled or grunted at whenever he broke any ‘rules’ that it had inside it’s tiny little mind.

“He’s not a pet.” Stark said firmly, lowering the sword. Loki chose not to reply, keeping any of his more insulting retorts back in case Stark lost his temper with him because, unfortunately for him, he had somehow managed to gain an insane Mountain Giant as an ally. 

_How_ he had done so, Loki was still puzzling over. But it was that attachment that had allowed Stark to make the Giant do as he said and right now, that was keeping Loki 'in line'. 

And irritatingly, Stark hadn't even taken advantage of this.

The only order that Loki had seen him give was to make certain that Loki didn't run or try to escape, and even then it'd been said as more of a suggestion. 

But the Giant had obeyed it anyway - _calmly_ \- and had sat calmly, and had watched Stark with a small glimmer of protectiveness in it’s eyes. 

They had barely been there for a _day_ , how had Stark even managed to create a bond that strong. Not only was this beast a Giant, born and bred in the Mountains and half-starved at the hands of it’s own kin, but it had also been driven insane and had been taunted by those that had captured it, where - 

Oh. 

_Kindness_. 

Stark must have shown the idiotically ‘poor’ creature some kindness. 

Of course. The typical, foolhardy notion of kindness quelling the beasts rage. Loki would have scoffed, were he sure the Giant wouldn't take offense to that. 

But it made an annoying bit of sense now. Stark must have been with it, in all those hours that Loki had not seen him before in the arena, using the Giant to plan his revenge on Loki as he waited; using food and sweet words to pull it’s affection toward him. 

How human of him.

“Okay, here we go, let’s see if I can do this,” Loki looked up at that, but Stark’s eyes weren't on him, but on the Giant. 

In his hands was some form of bread that he must have found still left in the bag and as he gave it to the Giant, he tightened his grip on the sword and aimed for the chains on it’s wrists. Aimed to slice them open. “Okay now, hold still for a minute.” Loki straightened abruptly. 

Did he really think he could -

Stark lifted the sword.

“Stark!” 

The chains clanged against the metal of the sword as they were struck together, the sound deafeningly loud but it wasn’t until Loki took a step forward himself that the Giant rouse enough from eating to grunt threateningly at him, “Stark, those chains were put there for a reason.” He said behind gritted teeth, only pretending to freeze in place until the Giant looked back to it’s food again. The closer he tried to get, the thinner the ice he’d be walking on, but if Stark released that monster - 

“Yeah, I _know_ ," Stark said bitterly, struggling to hold onto the sword; doubtlessly heavier than he'd assumed it would be, "And the reason was to keep him locked up. Like some kind of animal, or something.” Another clang, and one of the links broke off, the tinkle of metal drawing both their attention to it. Stark watched it tumble off with a huff of relief and raised the sword once again. 

One more and the entire thing would shatter. 

“I promised him I’d let him go if he helped me get out of there. I keep my promises.” 

Oh for - “He cannot speak, Stark.”

Stark sneered at him. “Doesn't mean he can’t understand.” _Oh yes, it can_. 

Loki took another step forward, testing his boundaries now but this time the Giant pushed Stark out of the way and clambered to it’s feet; towering over Loki. Well then. Another rule broken, it seemed. 

It bared it’s yellowing teeth at Loki when he refused to move back but he did recoil when saliva sprayed over him as it roared in his face. 

Stark picked himself off of the ground, running ahead of the Giant and between Loki, placing two hands on it's huge arms, “Easy, _easy_. It’s okay,” The Giant blinked down at him, it’s eyes following the exaggerated motions of Stark’s mouth with it’s own still gaping wide. Compared to the anger it obviously felt for whenever Loki moved, every movement of Stark’s was watched as though it was in a trance.

Well. At least he could calm the thing. “You can kill him later, okay.” 

Never mind.

Loki stared at the back of Stark’s head in response to that but when he opened his mouth to say just what he thought of that threat, the Giant’s gaze jerked back to him. Taking a step back would be more like surrender for him and this entire cycle of threatening and moving would just continue. 

And if Stark was planning on trying to kill him anyway ... Loki took another step forward. 

The Giant’s face morphed into an ugly display of anger and in a second it had reached out to grab Loki by the throat of his armour, throwing him into the tree beside. 

Any patience within Loki then, snapped. 

Lunging across the grass, Loki reached for the staff that Stark had forced him to hand over before and he held it up and ready just as the Giant began to advance on him.

Again Stark tried to calm it, but Loki had apparently broken too many rules in it’s mind. With an echoing bellow, it’s fist crashed into the tree when Loki dodged it’s strike.

Swinging the staff around, Loki blocked another blow and knocked the Giant's hand to one side. When it made a grab for his leg, memories of Midgard flooded his mind, and he was momentarily disoriented but as luck would have it, so was his opponent. 

Loki twisted the staff around whilst the Giant stared at it’s arm; confused. 

All that time that it must have been locked in that corner, moving now and at such a fast pace, was understandably strange for it. 

And understandably easier for Loki to kill it. 

The speared end of his staff was aimed at the brute’s heart but just as Loki thrusted it forward, it was suddenly parried by Stark’s sword. He snapped his head over to the mortal in surprise, narrowing his gaze, but he recovered quickly and sliced the staff through the air; barely missing Stark’s own chest. 

The man was clumsy with a sword, holding it with both hands and bent from it’s weight but that clumsiness made him that bit dangerous. Loki swiped at him and narrowed his eyes further when it was actually blocked. 

He kept the staff pressed to Stark's sword, pushing down on him until he had to bend his knees to accommodate the new weight and once he did that, Loki was able to shove him onto his back with a kick.

Raising the staff up to puncture him through the head, just as he’d promised so many hours ago should he catch Stark following him again, Loki met the wide eyes of the man he was going to kill. 

Stark glared up at him. His eyes still void of any real fear. 

And then Loki was staring at the ground. 

Stark had rolled away just before Loki had struck him and from behind him, the Giant smashed it’s fist into Loki’s back. 

Pain exploded behind his eyes and he lay there, winded and gasping.

“No.” He heard Stark’s say, past the rushing in his ears, off to his left. He was speaking slowly, as though the Giant were a small child with difficulty hearing. “Don’t. Let go of him, okay. I need him.” 

Loki struggled to get back up but when the ground vibrated with the footfall of the Giant, he chose to simply roll over instead. At least, this way, he could see what was happening and the Giant wouldn't take too much offense to his movements. 

“See.” Stark pointed at him. “He’s harmless now.” The Giant pressed a foot over Loki’s chest, squashing him down into the mud as though testing to see if what Stark had said was true. Loki didn't move. The chains on it’s wrists had already been snapped and had either come apart during the short fight they’d had or Stark had snapped them with the sword while Loki had lain on his stomach. 

Whichever it had been, it was free now, and they were both surprisingly still alive. 

Stark smiled at it, “Go on, now. You can go.” 

The Giant turned to Stark, it’s eyes almost reproachful but when Stark smiled at it again and gestured it go, it bared its teeth in a ridiculous imitation of Stark’s expression and stepped backward. “Go on then.” Stark said again, motioning that it run. “I know you can understand me, so listen. I’m keeping my promise, you can _go_.”

Slowly, the Giant took a few steps forward and away from Stark. Then without looking back, it bounded off into the forest, pure glee written into it’s even movement. 

Loki closed his eyes, listening to it’s trudging footsteps become fainter as it ran further on and when he opened them he saw Stark’s hand before him. A hand to help him stand. 

He looked up at Stark's face, a mixture of both being earnest and angry. He didn't take the hand. 

Loki struggled to his own feet unaided and Stark neither commented nor tried to help him, though he let his hand fall back to his side a little limply. 

Dusting himself off, Loki turned to him, his eyes immediately sliding over to the staff that was now in Stark’s hands. “Give that to me.” 

Stark’s hand tightened over it.

“I need to get to Asgard.” Stark told him, ignoring his request. His eyes were wary of Loki but his voice was firm enough.

“So you’ve said.” Loki leered at him. There was still pain in his back when he moved but he refused to leave here without a weapon and he was in no condition to fight for that staff, as of yet. Even if it _was_ a mortal that he was planning on fighting.

“You know the way so you’re going to take me.” Loki scoffed at Stark’s tone, bending over to crack his back. Stark took a single baffled step back when he did, before letting out a cry of surprise when Loki grabbed his legs and flipped him over onto the ground. Loki stepped over him then, stopping him from getting up and he wrapped his hands over the staff. 

“You - !” They wrestled for it briefly and eventually Loki was able to wrench it from his grasp, taking some of the skin on Stark’s palm with it. The spear on it was then tilted to press underneath Stark’s chin, splitting the skin there just slightly. For all his attempts at acting bold ... Loki shook his head at him but Stark just regarded him coolly. “I’ll scream.”

His eyebrows twitched. “Good.” Stark pushed himself back from him, the slave’s shirt riding up as he did but Loki’s knees kept his pinned down. “I’d prefer that, I think.”

Stark glowered up at him, “But would you prefer it if that Giant comes back because he _heard_ me scream?” Loki paused, his eyes tightening as he looked down at Stark. It was an empty threat -he was sure of it - but he had barely survived the attack of Midgard's green beast, and so enduring a full-scaled attack from an unchained Giant was something he would probably perish from right now. 

Trolls he had even been wary of, even when he’d been more alert, but now that he was more tired and weaker and out of patience, he'd have no hope. And fighting when you were angry was a mistake he knew well. 

“No,” He growled, straightening his back and stepping off of Stark, “I would not prefer that.” To his credit, Stark didn't smirk at him but the need to was still so obvious, “We part ways here, Stark. Permanently.” But when he turned, Stark still followed. 

“Hey, wait,” Stark staggered after him, yanking the shirt down to cover what skin he could. “I just saved your _life_!” 

At the steel in his voice, Loki spun around - slowly - to face him again. “And your point is?”

“My _point_ , you sanctimonious bastard, is that you owe me.” He was standing with his fists suspended at waist-height, and his eyes narrowed in unreasoned anger, “If you won’t take me, then at least tell me how I can get there myself,” Loki didn't answer and instead, his eyes found the sword that Stark had casually discarded behind him, “I've saved your life twice now, you _owe_ me.”

Loki frowned at him, “And how, Stark, did you manage to save my life ‘twice’?” Stark’s glare deepened.

“I warned you when everyone started trying to kill you back at that arena,” He hissed at him. “Not that you’d deserved it.” He then looked to the side where the Giant had lumbered off to before. “And I could have let that Giant kill you but I told him not to. You heard me too, so don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.” 

Loki bowed his head at him. “And that was your mistake,” He pointed out. “Not mine.” Loki took him by the shoulder and pushed past him easily, walking to the sword and crouching to pick it up. Sheathing it in the belt of his armor, he continued on in whatever direction was the opposite to where Stark was, “I owe you nothing.”

“Wrong.” Stark snapped from behind him. Still insistent on following him. “Whether you think so or not, Asgardians have a duty to uphold debts. You have a debt to me, a double debt if we’re being technical, and you need to _uphold_ that debt.” 

“And what would you know of Asgardian duty,” Loki sneered. There was a curse muttered under Stark’s breath before he answered and Loki smile became cold.

“Thor told me.” Loki laughed at that, but Stark apparently had more to say. “And his mother agreed - your mother - The Queen.” Loki stopped walking then, ignoring how Stark crashed into his back because his mind was still replaying the words ‘The Queen’. 

“ _You_ saw Frigga?” He breathed. His mother had repelled all company since Odin’s death so to see Stark at all was something - 

No. That wasn't important. What was, however, was not only that but the fact that he still believed she may have known something about what that had happened; about the shaking on Asgard.

_Stark had seen her before it had happened._

There was a pregnant pause after he’d spoke and when he turned to look at Stark, there was a look in his eyes that he completely disliked. 

He now knew that Stark had information he needed and now the man himself knew it as well. But that didn’t matter. He didn't need it right this minute and there were other ways to obtain it. Giving Stark what he wanted did not have to be it, “How interesting for you.” He finished, putting as much disdain into his words as possible.

Unfortunately, Stark didn't need long to recover with disappointment, “Yeah. I saw her. And she said the same thing about ‘debts’,” He waved a hand in Loki’s face, arrogantly. “So, uphold, already. Show me the way to Asgard! Or better yet, take me there.” Loki hunched his shoulders at that tone and grabbed the hand still in his face, twisting it away from him. 

“And why should I.” 

Stark stared at him, rubbing his hand where Loki had gripped it. Loki pressed his lips together in undisguised impatience. 

“Because you’re Asgardian.” Loki raised an eyebrow in faux shock.

“ _Am_ I.” Loki chuckled when Stark’s face darkened and he turned away again, “This is the last time I will warn you, Stark. Leave me.” 

He continued to walk and, at first, he couldn't hear the other man following him but then the crunching of the leaves that echoed his own steps reached his ears and he tightened his grip on the staff. 

Surely the Giant was far enough now, to at least _attempt_ killing him.

“Alright, if being Asgardian isn’t enough for you then fine,” Loki paused, still walking but his mind was more alert now to what Stark was implying, “I’ll leave you." Loki frowned, "I mean, I guess if I find anyone along the way, they won’t kill me if I can show them where you are, right. I could even make a truce. ‘Don’t kill me, and I’ll show you the way to Loki, most-wanted-guy-of-the-century.’” Loki’s face tightened just as his legs stopped moving on their own accord. 

The _little_ \- 

“And you _did_ say to me before, to not to let anyone know that you were here. You must have said that for some kind of a reason, right? Seemed important too. And I do always do the opposite of what people tell me to, so -”

“I have noticed your tendency to do that yes.” Loki said, behind clenched teeth. Anger was beginning to fill every pore of his body as he listened to Stark babble. If anyone on this realm learnt that he was here, if they could discover where he was, especially when in this state, he would be labelled dead before they’d even arrived to kill him, “And you _dare_ say anything to anyone, I will - ”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” Stark sounded far too casual now. He knew that what he was saying was working. “It would be a little too late for that, don’t you think. They’d all know by then.” Loki turned his head to one side to look at Stark over his shoulder, and when their eyes met, Stark sighed loudly. “Look, Loki. Just tell me how to get out of here and I won’t tell anyone or bother you again. Okay? It’s as simple as.” Respect, it seemed, must clearly not be a part of Stark’s mind.

 _How to get to Asgard._

Loki stared at him, turning to face him fully now as he tried to think of the simplest way to explain all that he had theorised so far. There was none. And so, he chose to settle with a lie. 

“Asgard is destroyed.” He said, watching as Stark’s eyes shuttered. “You cannot go back.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, so sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoy ^_^


	7. Crossroads in the sand.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _No darkness will endure for too long._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! I had exams and still do :( But, anyhow, anyone who is reading this please do enjoy! :)

.

“Asgard is destroyed.” He said, watching as Stark’s eyes shuttered. “You cannot go back.” 

“What.” Stark’s voice was barely a whisper but when Loki turned away, a hand was suddenly wrapped over his arm, “No, wait. What do you mean ‘ _destroyed_ ’?! It can’t - ” Loki tugged his arm out of Stark’s grip, causing the man to tumble forwards at the force. While he staggered back to his feet, Loki brushed the branches before him out of his face to continue on. Far from the arena and far from Stark’s Giant friend. “Hey! _Loki_!” 

Loki snarled over his shoulder at him, “What?” 

“The - " Stark began, then seemed to think better on it. "Where are you going?” Loki stamped his boot over a wilting flower harder than necessary as he walked, “If you think Asgard’s destroyed, then where exactly are you heading?” Stark asked again, his voice breathy as he tried to catch up with Loki’s strides. “And don’t say: ‘away from you’, or anything just as sarcastic. I already get the picture. You hate me and I hate you and blah blah _blah_... You can give it all a rest now because, like it or not, we’re stuck here and _you_ need something that I know and I need you to get out of here. So just ease up, okay. ” Loki stopped walking. “That wasn’t an order by the way, before you start trying to kill me again.”

“The information, that you seem to have assumed is essential to me, can be sought elsewhere easily.” Loki said, stirring his legs forward. “In fact, the reason I have not questioned you as of yet, is because finding it from someone else is exactly what I plan on doing.”

“Fine, but I know you’d rather - ” Stark began.

“And your knowledge is merely a curiosity that I am trying to douse, rather than anything of dire need, so you really have nothing to hold me to.” Above them a flock of birds took flight abruptly, their squawks drawing Loki’s attention, and he watched them beat their wings hard to fly to the east. 

He frowned. Odd.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re ove - ?!” Stark checked himself, pressing his lips together and visibly trying to calm himself.

Loki raised an eyebrow at him, looking away from the sky now. “That I am, what.” 

Stark’s shoulders rose in an animalistic gesture of sensing danger and he settled for scowling at Loki instead of answering. Loki didn't say much of anything either and the both of them stood there, staring at each other, when - from where the birds had fled before, the ground began to dip. 

It was a subtle enough feeling: of the mud and grass slowly titling, and the dizzying sensation of the world moving faster than it should, but when the colours of the flowers and trees around them began to blur together as well, it became obvious that everything was gradually beginning to tremble. 

Not again. 

Stark met his eyes for a split, single second, the blue in them brightened in panic now and his shoulders rose higher. 

And the next moment they were both running. 

Loki shouted, once, when a tree toppled beside him but he avoided it easily and sprinted all the more faster. A pack of wild boar intercepted his fleeing as they bolted from their home and went squealing past him whilst he tried to avoid their scurrying retreat. More birds began to take flight to safety as the two men on the ground continued to run for their lives.

So it could all just happen again. Just like that. 

It was as they were running that the cracks in the ground appeared, whole chunks moving apart from each other, and it wasn’t long until they had to leap over them to prevent falling into that same abyss. 

An abyss so similar to what Thor must have been drowned in, back on Asgard. 

The shaking and crumbling was exactly the same as it had been in the great hall and focusing on that thought was just enough to spur Loki onward. 

He would not risk waking in another realm again only for the same occurrence to happen to him. Not until he at least had some answers. 

Trees toppled before him as he ran but he propelled himself over them, using the butt of the staff still in his hands. 

The corner of his jacket was caught to a branch but one swipe of the sword - that he’d taken from Stark - freed him. Rocks from the mountains just in range to them, rolled down their slopes and crushed all that they fell upon; just as more and more of the ground separated from itself and revealed more of the abyss. 

Loki ducked when the trunk of a huge oak sailed toward him from it’s peak on a hill; the thorned leaves of it’s flowers scratched at his face and hands. 

He kicked it to one side and scaled the gap between the roots of the tree and the clump of ground before it. Mud fell away, swallowed by the darkness beneath. 

He was running out of ground to run on. 

He caught himself on the edge of a crater where something must have once lived if the nest his foot stumbled over was anything to go by, but the edge that he stood on crumbled away immediately under his feet. 

He lost his balance. And his heart almost stopped beating. 

Lunging forward, he kept his hands outstretched and raised and he quickly caught onto the embedded roots of another tree. 

Using it to haul himself up, he dug his fingers into the mud and lifted his legs back onto the ground. He took a moment to recover, his heart going from being completely still to beating incredibly fast, and he let out the single deep breath that he’d not realized even he’d held in. He began to pull himself forward, using the roots to try and get to the point where there would be no more risk of him falling. 

He tugged harder to get there faster but - 

There was a snap. Loud and sharp, just by his ear, and when he lifted his head - shaking his hair out of his eyes - he grew rigid at what he saw. 

The roots were no longer connected to the tree.

Fate allowed him only three seconds to comprehend this before he was falling. 

No. No no no no - 

He clawed at the ground, feral in his desperation and fueled by his anger at his own stupidity for remaining so still for too long. 

Dirt clumped under his nails, it's tiny stones biting at the sensitive skin there but he continued to slide lower down regardless. 

The shaking of the ground only intensified everything he was feeling, stopping him from getting a sustainable grip and forcing his body to creep toward the edge. His legs dangled off, his face in the mud, his arms already aching, and it was all he could do to just try to hold on. 

Not like this. _Not like this_.

He tugged on the grass before him for more grip with one hand but the blades only tore off and the momentum of his hold flung his hand behind him until he was hanging on with only the one. 

“No,” He growled to himself, his teeth clenched and grinding, “I will not die like this. Not like this.” Falling into nothing. Into an abyss, into darkness. He would _never_ do that again. 

_I could have done it father!_

With a shout Loki threw his free hand forward once again, reaching for a hold. He met with only air and it was then that the mud he had dug his fingers into, softened in his hand. 

And he fell. Fell and fell. 

The hand still reaching spasmed as his fingers barely brushed the ground and as he closed his eyes he knew that there was nothing there he could hold onto. 

But then, suddenly, there was another hand. 

Another rough, warmer hand clasped to his - the fingers digging into his wrist - and he was _pulled_. 

He clenched his hand over the one now in his grip, using the other to gain a hold on the ground. As he was pulled, the shaking began to cease, but the mud still softened around him.

Still eluding his hands. 

“Hang on!” 

Stark. 

The man's voice was strained, heaving Loki up with all his strength whilst his other hand held tight to a boulder. 

His feet scrabbled over the ground as he continued to lose his footing, sliding over the mud and dirt, but when Loki was just over the edge enough to see him, he was over enough to reach for the rocks that littered it. 

The progress was slow; Loki couldn't haul himself up without a good-enough grip and Stark was no Asgardian with his strength but when his legs were over, he was safe. The last of the trees fell behind him; he felt the leaves brush over his back, and with that done, the shaking finally. Finally stopped.

Loki was wheezing on his hands and knees, spitting mud out of his mouth and curling his fingers over the grass. 

Stark sat opposite him, his eyes wide, and his breathing heavy. There was blood on his knees, grazes from where he must have fallen, and his face was as muddy as Loki’s must be. 

The silence between them eased on and when Loki met Stark’s eyes again, his mouth open as he gulped in the air he’d lost, it tightened in his chest. The tension, the fear, the relief and - 

And then he was laughing. He couldn't help it. 

Stark looked startled at first, staring at him Loki warily but then he slowly began to relax as well; until he was smiling back. 

Loki watched him in his relief, his own laughter gradually dying down but the surreality of what had just happened still threatened to burst through in hysterical joy. 

“You, Stark," He murmured, "Are a fool,” He sighed, spinning to sit instead of leaning on his hands, “I would never have done the same for you, why bother.”

Stark’s smile remained curled over his lips as he shrugged slowly with his one bare shoulder. The material of his shirt was still too large for him but as he sat there, he twisted the collar together with his hands - to tie it with a knot at his neck. 

Allowing it to fit him, if rather clumsily.

“Maybe it’s because you would never do the same for me, that I did,” He replied, tugging the knot to tighten it before standing. Loki took that as a cue for him to stand also, never liking himself to be below anyone. “Either way, _you_ owe me another debt.” 

The amusement in Loki was wiped clean at those words and he now stared coolly at Stark. He'd been right before, in saying that all Asgardians were bound to fulfill debts. But Loki _was_ no Asgardian. Though nor would he accept himself as a Giant either, and bind himself to their traditions instead. 

There were two choices here. 

Either to leave Stark behind - regardless of the times that he’d saved his life - and to press on himself for answers that he would likely find difficult without the information that Stark may have been given from his mother. 

There were too many variables in that, however, too many risks. 

The second option, though, was even riskier. 

To take Stark with him to find these answers, to question him for the information, and to release his debt by doing what Stark wished. Giving him safe passage. But Stark was a mortal, easily overcome by anything in these realms and too loud to be undiscovered should they have need to hide.

He was also a man with a deep hatred for him, with a desire to make him pay for whatever crimes he was still accountable for, and alliancing yourself with someone who was after your head was never something to exactly be encouraged. 

“You wished to know how to get to Asgard, did you not?” Loki asked him, licking his dry lips, “I answered your question. I fulfilled one debt.”

“You told me that it was _destroyed_ ,” Stark parried. “That’s not showing me a way.”

Loki raised both brows and let out a loose chuckle, “And you, what, wish to go to a ‘destroyed’ realm?” 

Stark’s eyes darkened, “If Asgard really was destroyed, I figure you’d be a lot less casual about it,” Loki looked at him, “I mean, sure, you apparently _despise_ everyone there but it’s your home. You grew up there and if there was anyone you actually liked or that liked you, they’d be there.” He shrugged, chewing on his bottom lip, “Even the heartless would grieve for that. Or at least, be angry about it - which is kinda more your forte, really. And you’re being neither,” Loki softly hummed in neutral acknowledgement that he’d heard, but said nothing else, “So,” Stark continued. “What _did_ happen on Asgard?” Loki stepped toward him now, his hands at his side, but Stark stood his ground, "The truth."

The truth. 

What to say if the truth was too ambiguous, that even he'd no idea what had - 

"I don't know," Stark blinked, clearly surprised that Loki had actually answered, "But there was some truth in what I said, then, to you. Asgard may not be destroyed entirely, but you really _can_ not go back," He continued to walk until he passed Stark, extending his leg carefully over a gap in the ground to step onto a larger stretch of grass that could at least give him more to walk on. 

The shaking had torn at the forest and with the lack of trees, he could easily see that the mountain passes had suffered from it also. To find suitable ground to walk on he would simply have to leave the area where the forest had grown until he at least found some shelter. 

Shelter where he could think. Where he could plan. 

Before he started, he turned back to look at Stark; glad that - for once - the man was staying behind, and he tilted his head at him. 

“I owe you two debts,” He said but when he opened his mouth again, Stark corrected him.

“Three debts, actually.” Loki shut his mouth with a snap and he narrowed his eyes at him, which earned him an apologetic look, “Sorry. Go on.”

“I will fulfill only two,” Loki continued. “Ask now, and ask wisely.” 

Stark folded his arms. “Why not three?” 

“That is your question?” Loki asked coolly. “What a waste of a debt.”

“ _No_ , that wasn’t my question.” Stark said, quickly, sounding irritated now, “And since when are debts, questions? That’s not how it works.”

“Be thankful that I am giving you as much.” Loki said, beginning to lose his own patience. 

Stark held his gaze firmly for a moment before rolling his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully, “How about I use one debt on a question, and one on a request? That work for you?”

Loki paused, thinking. “Agreeable.”

“Okay,” Stark clasped his hands together, biting his lip again in a habit that was becoming an increasingly obvious sign of the man’s nervousness. “My question. Uh, my question is,” He flitted his gaze to each side, before finding Loki’s impassive gaze again. “On Asgard, and here - wherever here is - what is all this shaking? And did you cause it? And if not, what do you know about it? I want the truth okay, the complete truth. And don’t keep any information back either. It's all or nothing.” He held his head higher, glaring at Loki, “And if it’s nothing, then you owe me another question.”

Loki didn't betray anything that he thought of this on his face, keeping his expression as neutral as necessary, “And your request?” He prompted Stark.

“You take me with you,” Stark said, immediately. “Wherever you’re going, you take me too. You don’t leave me behind, you don’t try to kill me or - or maim me in any way, and you don’t try to trick me into doing it myself,” He took a breath, “Or anything at all similar to the above,” Once he had finished, his shoulders once again began to rise, bracing for any reaction of Loki’s.

Loki blinked slowly, his mind going over all possible loopholes that Stark had clumsily left in his hastily-put request, before focusing on the actual request itself. 

The question he could agree upon, he didn't know much and what he did know couldn't be used against him anyway. 

Stark had clearly assumed that he knew a lot more than him but the truth could possibly be that they simply had the same extent of knowledge about these incidents, as each other. 

Stark’s request, however, was his previously thought out option two. 

It was risky to have a mortal traipsing about behind him and there was also that _hate_ in Stark’s eyes. It uncomfortably reminded him of the eyes of those in Asgard. Those forever judging nobles and 'friends'. 

Family. 

_No, Loki._

“I agree to all with one condition,” Stark swallowed but nodded without hesitation, “If I am to be bound to this "deal" of not trying to kill or maim or," He paused, mimicking Stark's tone, "Anything at all similar to the above. ... Then you must then be bound with the same rules,” The smallest of lines slowly appeared between Stark’s brows then, but again he simply nodded, "Do I have your word?”

“If you seriously even think me capable of being able to kill you right now? Then, yeah. You have my word.” 

Loki extended a hand for him to shake, keeping his face blank and Stark did the same. 

He felt the man’s fingers brush his palm but before he grasp his hand in the Midgardian manner, Loki grabbed his forearm and shook once. Stark pulled his hand back when it was done and stared at him. Waiting. “ ... Lead the way.”

Loki dusted himself off and turned his back on Stark, giving a clear indication that he had taken Stark’s word for honour. And this time, when Stark followed him, he didn't try to stop him.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments and kudos! :)


	8. Kindness is not a necessity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _But they woke him with words, their cruel, bright weapons._ "

.

They found horses. 

The mare that Loki had taken before must have bolted when the Giants had attacked them - he hadn’t really paid much attention to her then anyway - and when they’d entered the same clearing once again, she’d been, as predicted, nowhere to be found. 

He’d spooked Stark’s horse himself before so there'd been no hope in finding that one either, but in the end, they hadn’t needed to. 

Half a days walk beyond the clearing, they’d come across the remains of an ambushed camp. 

Stark had frozen in his steps, his eyes scanning everything and taking it all in but Loki continued walking into the midst of it. 

There must have been over two dozen living here, women and children included from the looks of things and they had clearly not been planning to be on the move for a while yet. 

Amongst the broken carts and ripped fabric, there were bags of food and herbs, skins of wine enough for five well-stocked men, and eight horses. 

The horses were the focus for now and Loki tossed the bags into one pile to scavenge through later. The horses had been starved, left there for days all alone, and tied to a post with no means of escaping or eating as they so desperately needed to. He patted the stallion nearest to him before searching for food for them all. 

Traveling on horseback was far better than walking but if they were too weak from hunger then they would not get that far. 

A basket of hay, littered with apple chunks, raisins and seeds had been enough to rouse them into tossing their heads and chomping at their own rations, and Loki left them to the food; along with a pail of water for their dry mouths. 

He drank a whole skin himself, quenching the thirst that he'd had pulsing in his throat since his arrival on Vanaheim. He sighed, closing his eyes, and leant his head back against a broken cart, making the wood creak in protest.

“What happened here?” He opened his eyes to find Stark standing before him, his eyes dark and solemn and a bound book in one hand. 

“The same that has happened to all on this realm,” Loki said, straightening, “Giants and Trolls should not be in Vanaheim and this,” He gestured around him with his one hand, “Is precisely why.”

Stark’s gaze didn't falter. He crouched over the mud, and lowered his head, “Vanaheim ... that's here, right?” Loki nodded. “So those huge things that took us to that arena? Those were Trolls?”

“No. Those were all Storm Giants, save for Ulik, who was the _only_ Troll,” He pulled back the wine skins when Stark reached for one and ignored the baleful glance he received in return. He could wait until Loki’s thirst was quenched before he drank any himself.

“Okay, so what about in the arena?” Stark said, easing his legs out so he was sitting on a dry patch of grass instead of bent over dirt.

“What about it?” Loki countered.

“Well, in the stands. The people watching." Stark's free hand fiddled with the hem of his shirt, "Were they the people who lived here?”

Loki nodded slowly, taking a sip from a different skin. “Some of them were, yes. They were traitors to their own people and had likely chosen to watch them die to save themselves from the same fate," Growing tired of Stark’s darkening look, he threw a wine skin at his head and continued, “Some, however, were elves. You met one, in fact," He grinned, "He was he one who tried to - ”

“So he was an _elf_?” Stark interrupted him quickly, gulping down three quarters of the wine, “So that’s what they look like, then. Huh. And the Trolls were what you fought and the Giants were the - the guards?” Loki yawned behind one hand, allowing Stark to think aloud, and stretched out his aching legs, “What about the other Giant? The one that helped me. He is a Giant isn’t he? I mean, he looked different compared to the others but he didn’t look Troll-ish or - ”

“He was a Mountain Giant. Which is far more dangerous than any meager Storm Giant Stark,” Loki said, clenching a hand over the top of the skin to seal it shut, “You should be very thankful that he was a runt and not fully grown, for if he had been, you and I would both be dead,” Stark hummed, drinking yet another impressive quarter of wine. 

“Well. _You_ more so than me,” He said lightly, “Seeing as he actually liked me.”

“He was insane.”

“Still liked me.” Stark grinned when he had no reply and stood to stretch his own legs, still holding onto that book. He caught Loki staring at it and brought it closer, as though protecting it. “It’s - er - a child’s journal. They must’ve left it behind when. Well.” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable and solemn yet again, "When." He finished. 

“Why keep it?” Loki scoffed, draining the last of his second wine skin and scooping the rest up into an empty bag. “It holds the thoughts of someone you have never and will never meet.” Stark’s grip tightened on the book, “Hand it here,” Loki baited him, feeling amusement begin to rise within him, “I need to start a fire and my magic is too tiresome to use right now,” Meaning: he could not summon even a wisp of a spell and that fact worried him the more he dwelled upon it. 

For all his promises of telling everything to Stark, there were some things he’d rather keep to himself. 

“Well that kid must've thought those things were important enough to write down,” Stark argued, pressing the journal to his chest, “I’m not about to delete their memories just like that,” He began to walk away, perhaps to sulk as Loki had discovered seemed to be a regularity for him, but then paused after a few steps, “Why do we need a fire anyway? I thought -”

“Because we are resting here for the night,” Loki said, standing himself and tossing the now-full-bag-of-food into the cart behind him, “I wish to take a horse for my own tomorrow but they are in no fit state to ride tonight,” Stark turned to look at the horses now, frowning slightly, “Besides, travelling by night after all we’ve seen doesn't seem like something that is wise, does it,” Stark's eyes twitched but he shook his head slowly, narrowing his gaze and turned his back on him to walk away. Loki blinked. “Where are you going, you fool? I said we are staying here tonight.”

“I know what you said," Stark said, mimicking Loki's curt tone, "I'm going to look for firewood,” He then called over his shoulder before Loki could open his mouth to say anything, “That cart behind you is soaking wet and any of the broken pieces from it won’t burn. I’ll just be a couple of minutes,” He jumped over a fallen branch before turning back again with a warning scowl. “And don’t leave without me. We have a _deal_. Remember,” Loki waved an airy hand at him in acknowledgement and as soon as Stark was within the trees, sat back down with a sigh. The sword he kept remained sheathed in his belt but the staff stayed either beside him or in his hands. 

He’d not risk Stark getting his hands on either. 

The walk they’d had to this clearing had been nothing but silent, and that silence had been utterly unnerving because it could only have meant that Stark had been thinking. 

It would be likely that he’d be thinking of his friends and of his home but also, if Loki had assumed correctly, those thoughts could inevitably lead to Loki’s attack and to all the destruction he had caused. 

Thoughts that would focus on where that hatred had first risen from. Having the company of a man that despised you was something that Loki had become used to over his life and while he did not care for Stark he could not honestly say he minded. 

Because, hate him he may, Stark couldn't act on it for two reasons. He had given his word not to and he was mortal. 

No match for someone like Loki, with or without his precious suit. And that fact must likely burn inside him, just as Loki's failure to succeed the throne would burn him for eternity. 

Revenge would never come for either of them.

Loki prodded at the ground with the staff, discontent to wander the camp should Stark come back and take anything that Loki could use himself. Such as, the bag of food that he had made or the fur he'd found to keep warm. 

If he could, he would eagerly create an enchantment around it, to keep it sealed only for him to open but with no magic, all his habits and methods were only ideas now. 

He would, know that he thought about it, also be able to use his magic to force Stark into telling him all his mother had said - using any painful spells or mind manipulation - but without it he would just have to wait for the right moment. 

Without magic he could hardly do anything; couldn't make a fire without wood, he had to manually search through a camp instead of simply "seeing" all, he could not teleport nor use his clones, nor do anything remotely useful in this situation. 

This, he supposed fuming, must be how the ordinary folk felt. 

*************

Stark didn't take long and, unfortunately, didn't become some creature's meal on his way back either. 

He had more than enough wood in his arms for two fires and made a point of dumping them on Loki’s lap in annoyance over the fact that Loki had done nothing productive while he’d been gone. 

That gesture had led to Loki swiping the staff under his feet and knocking the air out of his lungs, leaving him lying breathless on the ground before ordering him to make the fire himself when he’d recovered. 

After a brief argument, Stark did so, muttering under his breath all the while. 

“Did you find anything in the forest?” Loki asked lightly, picking seeds out of the bread he’d found. “Anything that could be of use.”

“No.”

“Did you look?”

“Fuck you.” Loki raised an eyebrow and smirked at Stark’s back, letting amusement quell any anger at his insolence, before prodding him in the back with his staff. Stark caught himself from falling into the fire quickly enough and, surprisingly, didn't rise to the bait and only stood - to crouch somewhere further away from Loki. “Can you make the fire warmer, already.”

“I’ve said to you _already_ ,” Loki said, narrowing his eyes at him. “I do not wish to use - ”

“It’s freezing.” Loki shrugged at him. 

“The night does bring a chill,” He agreed. “But as it doesn't affect me as much as it does you, do you honestly expect me to assist you?” Stark’s jaw visibly clenched but he didn’t retort, and only wrapped his arms around himself tighter. 

Loki pursed his lips and leant further from the fire. In his armour, he was actually rather warm, and with the thin clothes that Stark was still wearing from the arena, it was no wonder that he could feel the cold like that.

But that was his own fault. 

Behind Loki was a torn tent and beneath it, were many fur garments and mud-walking boots. If Stark had bothered to look, then he would know that, and as Loki wasn't exactly one for helpful prompting. Well. He didn't need a mortal following him about but they’d made a deal and he had agreed. 

That didn't mean he had to be kind to him, however.

“We’re leaving in the morning, then.” Stark broke the silence once more, his teeth chattering only very subtly.

“At dawn, yes.” Loki said, throwing a small twig into the fire. “Take only what you know you’ll need.”

“Yeah, because I know exactly what I’m going to need because I know exactly where we’re going,” Sarcasm dripped from him and the sour expression on Stark’s face only compensated any Loki missed. 

“Pack lightly, then.” Was all Loki said in answer before clambering onto the cart. He had set it against the bounder it had been attached to, to insure that it wouldn't roll or break, and had draped the material of a tent over the damp wood so that he could lie on it comfortably enough. 

He then turned on his side to see Stark still sitting beside the fire, “Sleep, Stark. I’ll not carry you tomorrow to keep our bargain of not leaving you behind.” 

Stark raised his head to look at him, "We have a deal, yeah, but that doesn't mean I ever want you to touch me."

"Likewise, mortal."

Stark made a face at him, insultingly yet again, before standing and walking past Loki to rummage in the fallen tent. 

He pulled out a fur coat from under it and dragged it over to the fire to lay atop it. Then he settled. 

Loki stared at him, his eyes squinting at Stark's smug face. He had seen him then, looking under the tent. He'd known and had been waiting until he was sure that Loki wouldn't take it all for himself - assuming that he had been safe in the knowledge that Stark didn't know - but he had known and now Loki had lost any extra warmth that he could have stolen throughout the night. 

He'd not noticed the man watching him and that unnerved him more than the loss of fur. He did not like being fooled; especially when it was by a mortal's hand. 

“Happy nightmares, Loki,” Stark murmured then, rolling over on the fur until he had his back to him. Loki turned away also, to stare up at the stars, and it was only when he was certain that Stark was asleep, did he even close his eyes. 

***********

Dawn was darker than the day before but the smell in the air was a clear telling that the sun was almost up.

Winter must be near for Vanaheim. Which would mean colder nights and darker days. 

Stark had curled in on himself in his sleep, much like he had when Loki had found him back on that first day in Vanaheim, and a light prod from Loki’s boot did nothing to wake him. He only moaned and burrowed his head into the fur. 

Loki glared down at him. Mortals.

He saw to the horses first, choosing the strongest for himself to ride and giving them food once again. They’d grown affectionate in his care - in so short a time - and whinnied softly when he left them to survey the camp one last time. 

Nothing had been disturbed in the night but he’d been half alert anyhow so that was no real surprise. There was also nothing new to be found as he’d taken anything remotely of use already. He’d been hoping some small animal had found it’s way here, for him to have as breakfast but no such luck. 

He would merely have to eat the bread that he’d found again. 

The muscles in his calves and arms no longer ached as constantly as they had back on Asgard. He’d had some sleep, finally. Restless nights on warm beds were nothing compared to sleeping beneath the stars; after running so long on adrenaline alone.

He stretched them as he walked, relishing in finally having time to himself; no matter how short it would be.

Stark was still asleep by the time he came back around and he genuinely thought of leaving him behind again. There were many reasons he should, after all but a debt was a debt, and a deal was a deal. And no matter how many Loki had broken in his lifetime, Stark could be useful, and right now he needed an asset. 

***********

Stark jerked awake to the sound of hooves pounding on the ground, and he barely managed to wipe blearily at his eyes before blinking down at the sharp tugging on his legs.

His head snapped up at Loki then, eyes wide and shocked at the rope tied tight around his body and the smile he saw only led him to lunge for the knot over his legs, and to yank at it furiously. 

Loki laughed softly at his screamed curses and dug his heels into the horse's side in response, spurring it on into a trot. Stark shouted behind him in startled pain as he was jerked forward by the rope on his legs and he hit the ground hard when the horse sped faster. 

"Ah -!" 

Loki held the rope tight in his hands and, by glancing over his shoulder as he rode, he saw Stark kicking out against it as he was dragged over the dirt on his back. His arms were above his head, having been thrown back in the momentum of the pull, and he cried out as his head was knocked against the ground.

Loki released the rope eventually and heard Stark groan as he thumped to a halt before slowing the horse down and turning it to face him. He dismounted with a jump and stood over him, smiling bitingly down at the dirt in Stark's hair, “Good morning, Stark.”

Fury didn't begin to even cover the emotion in Stark's eyes. 

Loki dodged the stone flung at him and let loose a short laugh, surprised that Stark would resort to throwing so quickly, “You - !” Stark growled, his voice wavering with anger as he clambered to his feet, still flinging whatever he could find beside him at Loki, “ _You_ \- !” He struggled for an insult that could accurately describe what he thought of Loki right now, and was clearly failing in finding one.

“Yes?” Loki prompted him, still laughing, “I, what?” He ducked at the branch that was thrown at him now, letting it soar over his head but when he looked up, he barely had enough time to widen his eyes before another rock struck his forehead. He caught the next one that followed and crushed it in his hand, showering the dust over Stark’s face to make him gag when he breathed it in. 

And, apparently, mortal’s can lose their patience as well.

Stark lunged for him, something that could only be described as incredibly stupid, and it only succeeded in knocking Loki to the ground because he was so taken back by it. 

He kept his deal however, neither maiming nor killing Stark but when he was punched in the face he did let himself get away a bit. They rolled in the grass, shoving and kicking, scratching at each others faces and insulting heritage, family and class. 

All the anger that had built up over these past few days, and perhaps longer than that considering everything, came out spewed over them both in screams and shouts.

Stark straddled him, resorting to tight pinches and hair-pulling, and he choked when Loki’s hands squeezed his throat hard enough to bruise. Stark fed him mud in response, holding his jaw shut until Loki bucked him off and rolled to hover over him instead. 

His groin was attacked then but with no actual strength behind it, there was no actual pain, and he took satisfaction in seeing the disappointment in Stark’s glare.

Brawling with a mortal, how had he come so low? 

The stallion snorted in alarm when they thumped together on the ground, startling them both, and when they looked up to stare at it, it kicked it’s legs in the air before bounding through the trees. 

Taking advantage of his distraction, Stark slapped his hand into Loki’s chin to knock his head back and he snarled at him, intent on returning the favor when they both heard the sound of two twin thuds to their left. 

Loki froze, his hands still fisted in Stark's shirt but before he could turn his head in that direction, the sharp sting of a sword pressed beneath his neck stopped him in his tracks. 

“Move, and I will kill you, Asgardian.” 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No fighting or blood or running in the chapter, but hopefully Loki had made his way into someone's amusement books. I seriously believe he would do something like this to someone. Hope you enjoyed :D


	9. There is no need for you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _Weir clambered up slowly, glanced back reproachfully at Stephen a he picked the slime and filth from his front, then made his solitary way along the duckboards. _"__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are getting shorter I think, and I apologize if they seem rushed :(

.

“Move, and I will kill you, Asgardian,” The sword pressed deeper in warning and Loki’s face tightened in response but he said nothing - still keeping his hands curled on Stark’s shirt to make the point that he wasn't exactly planning on moving just yet, “Are you well, slave?” It took a visible moment for Stark to realise that the woman here was talking to him and he stared up at her open-mouthed, whilst Loki rolled his eyes. 

“Huh? Oh - um, yeah. I’m fine. Thanks.” She shoved Loki off of him, her strength impressing him despite himself, and pulled Stark to his feet with a hold on his wrist. Slipping a hand beneath her shirt, she ripped the hem of her undershirt off and used it to dab at the blood on Stark’s face. “No, it's fine, I can - ”

The woman tugged at his face, pressing the cloth to a cut. She was tall, dressed as a man with a single shirt of mail over her chest, and her hair curled just past her shoulders. There were scars over her bare arms, twisting right around the skin before stopping at the elbow, “Eira," She called, "Come.” Loki jerked when another woman rushed forward from behind the trees and he watched her run toward them with a scowl. 

How many were there hidden around them, exactly. 

The second woman was a scribe and her dark cloak flowed behind her as she ran, making her hood bounce. 

She breezed past the other woman and stood beside Stark, taking his hand into one of her own. Stark blinked at her, letting her run her fingers over his skin, "There are no wounds, Eira." The other woman assured her, placing her hand atop of Stark's as well to gesture that the scribe release him, "There is no need to try and heal," The scribe - Eira - nodded once with her face still covered by the hood of her cloak and she turned to Loki then, seeing him still sitting on the ground; slightly baffled by this all. 

First Giants, then Trolls and now women. Would anyone leave him in peace? 

"I would ask if you had been following us," Loki grunted, content to let them fuss over Stark as long as they asked nothing about who they were and what they were doing, "But I suppose that's rather clear now, isn't it." He was ignored, unsurprisingly, though the scribe continued to stare at him. 

Stark gently took the cloth away from the first woman and began to tend to himself instead. 

"Thank you," Stark murmured to her and she nodded curtly, her gaze drifting to Loki for a brief second before falling on the scribe, "Listen. I need to get to Asgard." Loki's eyes narrowed at him, shaking his head slowly and when Stark saw him in the corner of his eye, he hesitated only slightly, before carrying on. "If there's a - " 

"You are not trying to get anywhere," Loki lowered his voice, letting his eyes bore into Stark's. "I suggest you keep quiet." 

"I don't remember any part of the deal saying that you could order me around." Stark glared at him. 

That wasn't an order," Loki sneered, "It was a suggestion, weren't you listening." He tried to get up now, pushing himself up with his hands but his limbs locked together, his torso straining to lift a body that suddenly no longer responded to him. 

Faint panic sparked within him but he damped it down and let himself fall back. A spell like this was something that he knew only too well. And with two Vanir now before him, it would take even a fool only a single minute to guess just how he'd had it cast over him.

"Release me." He demanded. The woman beside Stark raised an eyebrow at him, sheathing her sword,but still toying at the hilt with her gloved hand.

"I'm not holding you." She said, sounding vaguely amused and Loki bared his teeth at her when she chuckled.

"I wasn't talking to you," Loki countered, his legs still remaining frozen. Stark opened his mouth to comment but for once, seemed to think better of what he was going to say and kept quiet. The woman at his side placed a placating hand on the scribe's shoulder, the leather of her glove rippling as she rubbed her neck soothingly.

"Eira," The scribe gave no sign that she'd heard her but the other woman must obviously be used to that oblivious nature because she didn't falter at all, "Eira, don't strain yourself," Eira tilted her head and stepped away, toward Loki. He gave her the full intensity of his gaze, knowing that there must be a reason the other woman softened her voice when she spoke to her and choosing to ignore it. "Let your sp - " 

" _Loki_." She breathed, and though she spoke no louder than a whisper, Loki heard her perfectly, "You - you are Loki. Of Asgard." 

Loki kept his face void of any expression, betraying no shock at her knowing him by face and no fear at who she may tell now that she'd confirmed it. But all she did was continue to stare at him.

"Yes. And what of it?" He muttered impatiently, shaking the hair out of his eyes before jerking back in surprise when she let out a wordless cry and fell to her knees beside him, hunching her shoulders in either fear or joy. Or even both. 

The other woman stepped forward, but Stark remained where he was, watching.

“Prince.” Eira raised her head then, her lowered eyes lifting to meet Loki’s and his breath caught in his throat on it's own accord when he realized that he recognized her smile. 

“You.” He murmured and then started, because he hadn't meant to speak, he'd not meant to acknowledge her at all and the fact that he had - 

He cleared his throat. She must have allured him with her magic. With a binding spell. Something that he himself was very used to doing to others and usually that would anger him were it done to him instead, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to be spiteful toward her.

Vaguely, he knew that it was her magic - it was all her magic - making him feel this way but without his own to block it, he let himself succumb to it instead. Because it was her, the woman from before, the scribe he’d seen who’d been captured by Giants and led away.

She'd seen him. She'd seen and hadn't called for alarm, hadn't given him away, and had smiled that same smile at him then; just as she was doing now. 

He held her gaze as he'd done before and bowed his head in the first sign of respect that he’d shown anyone in years now, “I owe you my thanks, scribe,” He said, still slightly wary of the concentration of her gaze but grateful nonetheless. “Were it not for you, I would be dead.” And that was completely true. If she'd alerted the Giant's to him then, when he'd been in no condition to fight and with no Ulik to bargain with, then they would have simply killed him for being who he was. 

He owed her his life.

“Prince?” The other woman scoffed, interrupting his thoughts with her cutting voice and glaring at him from where she stood. 

She softened her voice yet again, however, as she seemed to keep doing so with the scribe and shook her head slowly. As though the scribe were a confused child, “Eira, no.” Her patronizing nature irritated Loki and it wasn't even addressed to him so it was no surprise that Eira took offense. 

“I know what is the truth Kari," She said forcefully, her eyes wide now and even slightly manic, "And I _know_ who he is,” She stood to meet the other woman squarely, raising a hand to point, “And he is a prince. A prince of Asgard. Loki.” She looked down at him again, widening her smile until her eyes crinkled, “Loki of Asgard.” 

He cleared his throat uncomfortably but nodded at her in agreement, unsure of what she wanted him to do exactly but she only continued to stare at him and her smile stayed fixed on her face. He held her gaze still, but a prickle of unease slipped down his back.

“Our _saviour_.” Loki’s eyebrows twitched high on his head as he blinked slowly at her, but she didn't laugh nor renounce her words either and simply continued to smile at him. As though he'd just brought her all the joy in the world. 

With a glance at the other woman - Kari - he now understood why her tone changed when speaking to her friend. 

Confused child, indeed. 

“Saviour?” Stark murmured incredulously, speaking for the first time and amusement still managed to leak into his voice, " _Loki_? You think he's - I'd say he's more of a destroyer, really." 

Loki ignored him despite the fact that his words rang true. Destroyer, after all, had been one of his many names before, “I ... don't know why you think that scribe,” Loki said to Eira, finding her gaze once again, “But if I am ever to be included in the prophecies of your people, it is usually for something unpleasant,” She frowned at him, taking a step back as though he'd offended her. “So I can assure you that you are wrong. I am no saviour.”

There was a pregnant pause, and it was only broken when Eira suddenly whimpered delicately, imploring Loki with only her eyes to take his words back. 

He stared at her, impassive to her tears though the sight of them made him all that more uncomfortable, but when he broke his gaze and turned away, she screamed. 

Loki blinked sharply in surprise but Kari was rushing forward before he could even move. Eira pulled away from her, staggering backward in a drunken dance of avoidance and her screams increased in pitch and distress as her eyes flashed bright and pained.

Kari reached for her again and before she could be pushed away, backhanded the scribe hard across the face twice until she toppled to the ground. She didn't move. 

"Hey!" Stark grabbed at the woman's arm, ignoring how she pulled away from him and he met her glower head on, "What the hell was that for?" 

"She is my responsibility," She snarled at him, shoving Stark back, "She strained herself is all, and her magic was getting away from her. I only stopped it." 

"Wasn't there a nicer way to do it." Stark snarled back, staring at her with something akin to disgust and he dropped to his knees beside Eira, checking her pulse and the bruise on her cheek. 

"You owe me your thanks, slave." She griped at him, "And with that, your respect." 

"My name's not 'slave'." Loki smiled to himself at Stark's response and after testing his legs, found that the spell Eira had cast on them had gone; now that she was unconscious. Kari jumped back when he stood and her hands flew to her sword, which only made his smile widen. 

"So suspicious." He mused, showing teeth with his smile when that only made her take on a clumsy fighting stance. An untrained soldier then. Then how - “How did you escape from a band of Giant’s?” He asked curiously, walking toward her. He avoided the scribe on the floor and avoided the subject of what had just happened even more, “It's astounding, really. How two woman could achieve that," 

And somewhere, Sif was cursing his name. 

The woman only stared at him, her eyes scanning his body until she was satisfied with what she saw, before slowly raising a fist to slam into her chest. And then she bowed. "My name is Kari, daughter of Igor the Priest," Loki raised his eyebrows. "And I do not answer to _Asgardians_." 

Alright then. "If you don't answer to Asgardians, then who do you answer to?" Loki parried, tilting his head at her, "Vanaheim is under Asgard's rule." 

"Aye. But I, as an individual, am not," She seemed to know already that the facts behind her words were no longer true of her realm, so when he shook his head at her she turned away with a frustrated sigh, "I will not be treated as your servant." 

"I merely asked a question." Loki said, bewildered by her response, "How did you escape those Giant's?" 

She unsheathed her sword and twirled it her hands, watching it spin with a grim expression, “We slaughtered them," She answered, quietly. "Before we reached the fabled caves and we have been running from them since,” She didn't look at him when she spoke and that in itself told him that she was lying, “And whenever we have seen anyone in danger, we have helped them,” She looked back at Stark, still twisting the sword. Loki followed the movement with his eyes, narrowing them as he watched, “Such as you, slave,” She swung her sword toward Loki as she spoke, and her jaw clenched in anger, “When we saw your master trying to - ”

Stark breath caught in his throat and he choked on it, “Woah, hold up. _Master_?” He held his hands up as she frowned at him, confused, “He - No, no, Loki is _not_ my - ”

“The slave was in no danger woman, just as you are no warrior” Loki stated, “And now that you have answered my question so nicely, I suggest you answer my first as well.” She stared at him, her grip on the sword becoming slack.

“I don't - ”

"Have you been following us."

"Yes." Stark rose from his knees, looking at her curiously, and left the scribe still laid out on the floor. "We have been."

"Why?"

"We were - " She stopped, her eyes flicking behind him to look within the forest and that told him enough.

Loki turned toward the trees, squinting between them to try to see what she did, and it was only when he did so, that he knew what a mistake that was. There was nothing but the camp behind them, and he knew that, just as he knew there was nothing there for her to look at. 

Clever, he cursed to himself, very clever.

"Tell me, _Kari_ ," He said casually, still facing the trees. "Are you a traitor to your realm, or have you always been an outcast of Vanaheim?"

"Neither," Was the cold answer and more thuds, similar to that of Kari and Eira's arrival signaled the ambush that she had clearly been planning. 

Loki's hands curled into fists. 

"Kill him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed :D Feel free to tell me what you think and if there are any mistakes ^_^


	10. Advan, son of Hogun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _But our whole life for months has been one long meddling in the affairs of Wizards,' said Pippin. 'I should like a bit of information as well as danger.'_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for edits in the chapters. I went back, read through some of them, and really did not like what I saw. Enjoy anyhow!

.

"Kill him." 

Loki spun at the whip of an arrow and caught the head of it between his hands, using it to stab the archer that had shot him in the neck.

He swung his fist into the man's chest and pushed past him as he fell but another took his place before he could even move away.

He was stabbed in his side, the blade actually piercing through the armor and his skin and he cried out at the pain. He yanked the knife out of himself and returned the favor to the Vanir that had stabbed him first, twisting it through his head instead until trails of his brain curled out over his face. 

A woman screamed at that, almost taking his head off with a mace but he caught the weapon before it struck him and used it to pull her to her knees. An arrow hit her from the back before he could kill her himself and when he glanced up he saw Stark crouched on the ground. With a bow in his hand. 

Well. Useful then. Finally. 

From behind Stark, a Vanir raised his sword and Loki flung the mace at him to help. Only returning the favor really. 

The chain twisted around his neck, snapping it off from the weight and Stark rolled out of the head's way when it fell. He kept the bow in hand and leapt to his feet when another Vanir approached him. 

The pain in Loki's side throbbed now and he planted a hand to it, pressing down hard. It was only a small wound, nothing he couldn't handle. He was fine. 

When he turned, he saw Kari carrying the scribe over her shoulders into the forest and growled under his breath at her cowardice. He ran forward to follow her, to deliver an ambush of his own but - 

Just as he stepped over a boulder in the way, he only saw the wooden club sailing for his head when it was but an inch away from him and by then, too late.

At that strike, he staggered to his knees, and raised a shaking hand to his head. The collar of his outer coat was grabbed and as he looked up at the man holding him, he only just managed to see the fist flying toward him before blinding pain overcame him.

_And your death came by the son of Odin._

*****************

_"Show me the path home,_

_we've naught but a pile of bread,_

_our woman and children moan,_

_our men, we see them dead._

_O show me the path home,_

_There is no life here,_

_we've prayed and sang in no man's land_

_for a King to answer..."_

.

The first thing that Loki became aware of as he awoke was that his head was _aching_. 

The second was that the wheezy singing he could hear echoing around him had not been the dream he'd assumed it to be and could still be heard past the throbbing in his forehead. 

He could feel fur brushing his cheek and someone had a hand palmed over his wounded side. He tried to shift away from whoever it was touching him but the pain in his head spiked at his attempts. 

He could smell the smoke of a fire, the clean air of the night, and the scent of soft skin. 

He was gently rolling as he lay there and it took him one disorientated moment to realize that this meant that he was moving. 

Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was a clump of gray fur, bunched to hold his head. He turned away from it, looking up instead and saw Stark sitting there. The fur was in Stark's lap. He had his head on the fur. 

He was laying in Stark's lap. 

His face tightened at the notion. Humiliating, he wasn't a child, for - 

He tried to sit up but Stark only blinked down at him when he moved and shook his head. "I wouldn't, if I were you," He murmured to him, bending his head to let him catch the words, "These guys really don't like you and," He trailed his eyes over the side of Loki's head, "They've kinda already done a number on your face, so. Yeah. I wouldn't." 

"You wouldn't, Stark. I will," Loki hissed at him, refusing to focus on the comment about his face. "Where are we?"

"In a forest."

"Yes, because of course I didn't know that already," Loki muttered, pushing him away and sitting up despite Stark's protests.

Looking down, he could just see the wood of the cart they were on and beyond that, the large Vanir that was pulling them along. There was a thick brown canvas draped over the wooden panels of the cart was the only thing shielding them both from sight. 

The cart itself was stocked with only food, along with barrels of mead and enough fur to keep an entire village warm. His armor had been stripped from him and he had only thin trousers on with no boots either. 

His bare chest was riddled with goosebumps from the chill in the air and yet, half his torso was covered with reddened bandages. His hands were chained, though not together, and as he yanked at them, Stark was pulled as well. One chain tied him to a hook in the cart and the other tied him to Stark's wrist, "They were given the order to kill us, why are we now prisoners?"

Stark's shrugged. His eyes were bloodshot. "Fuck if I know," He had a blanket of fur around his shoulders and was shivering under it.

"Well, you have been awake and aware, unlike me," Loki glared at him, "You must have seen or heard something," Stark's eyes darkened at his tone, "Or is there no memory in that addled brain of yours?"

Loki's wrist was pulled when Stark yanked on the chain angrily, "Yeah, well, I didn't see anything okay." He snapped. "They knocked you out, grabbed me, and threw us both in here. That's all I know. I don't know where we are, or who _they_ are, where we're going, or what the _hell_ is going on. All I know is, that I want to go home and I want to see if everything's okay. Back to my _own_ world, where everything actually makes fucking sense!" 

Loki blinked, leaning back and looking at him. 

"But thanks to you being enemy-number-one around here, that just doesn't seem to be happening so excuse me for not having an adequate answer for you your highness," The cart rocked as the wheels bumped over some stones, and they were jostled together. Stark looked away from him, and leant his back against the wall of the cart with a sigh, "You've not exactly been 100% forthcoming with me anyway, so why should I be." 

They sat in silence, neither of them being in the position to try to escape or bait their attackers.

"At least you can rest easy in the knowledge that you have a home to return to," Loki said after a while, his voice low as he stared down at his knees. Stark looked at him, but before he could reply, Loki asked, "Who bandaged me?"

After a moments hesitation, Stark answered him, "I did." He nodded his head at a leather bag beside him, "Found them in there," He added, chewing on the tip of his thumb, "You were bleeding out all over me, so I just ..." He trailed off and reached forward to toss the bag over to Loki. 

Loki caught it, and looked inside at the roll of bandages bundled there. 

"But hey," Stark continued, bitterly, "If you don't think my 'addled' little brain's done a good enough job, then there. Have a go yourself," He wrapped his arms around his torso tighter, still shivering like the human he was. 

So much more susceptible to the cold than any other creature. 

"And my armor?" Loki questioned him, poking through the bag with one hand.

"They burned it." Stark looked up at him when he froze. "Told you, they didn't like you." 

Loki didn't answer and instead shuffled as far from Stark as the chains would allow him. The cart rocked again and he resisted slamming his fist into the side of it in anger. Now that he was closer to the wall, he could hear the voices of the Vanir surrounding him but through the fabric of the cart's drapery it was far too muffled to make anything out. He gave up eventually, and knocked his head back against the wood in frustration. 

When eventually, the voices died away as well and silence filled the night, Loki grit his teeth.

For all he knew, they could be going further and further away from a bridge opening and if he escaped he'd have to journey all the way back. He could even get caught up in the arena again or be found by Ulik and what then? He was already wounded. 

The Vanir were meant to be loyal to Asgardians, especially to a Prince of Asgard and they knew that he was. At least, that scribe had known. But she could not possibly be the only one. It was not as if he'd been hidden since childhood. 

All the realms had seen his face and they all knew him. Vanaheim was his mother's realm and he had never harmed it directly so there was no need for them to be harming him. And yet, here he was. He scowled at the drapery. 

Fate hated him. 

He was just nodding off to a doze when the singing from before started up again and he groaned in annoyance, once again ignoring his preserving nature and calling out, "If you are to sing, then save it for your afterlife." Stark snapped his head up to look at him, startled and alert now, especially when the cart halted with a single juddering shake. 

Loki frowned, sitting up straighter. He'd expected to be ignored, or not even heard, but not - He met Stark's eyes and shrugged. 

The singing stopped and the cloth above the cart was ripped away. Loki blinked at bright glow of a fire, squinting at the face that met his. 

"Awake." A young Vanir, murmured, "He's awake!" He then called out to others and was hushed when his words echoed in the quiet, "Mother - "

"I heard, Bonir," A woman spoke from the left, concealed by the darkness. Loki tried to stand to see them all, but the chain attached to the hook in the cart stopped him from doing so. 

"We all heard." A man from the sides grumbled, pushing the younger boy out of the way. He peered into the cart at Loki and Loki stared right back at him, "You are Loki. Loki of Asgard?"

Loki bit his tongue, keeping his answer back until he knew just what it was they wanted from him.

"Yeah, he is," Stark called out from behind him, coming closer. He winced when Loki shot him a darkening look, but still carried on regardless, "And if you're going to kill him, can you kinda do it now? Because I'm getting a little sick of this capture-escape-kill-capture thing that you've all got going on," The man stared at Stark, then at Loki. He ignored everything Stark had said and held out a hand out for him to grasp.

"I am Advan, son of Hogun." Loki stared at the hand and didn't take it, "We have been waiting for you Loki Odinson," And this, Loki cursed as other faces appeared before him to gaze in awe, was why he despised the Vanir. 

For whenever he heard those words, it was because they had prophesied some heinous act that he was supposedly planning on doing. Where he would kill the King, or bear a child that would one day unleash hell, or poison entire realms or kill his own wife. 

The most his name was mentioned in a prophecy, the less likely it came true. 

Odin, however, had always taken each prophecy to be an oath and had committed countless crimes toward his own son to prevent them from occurring. Even when it would be impossible for them to. 

"If that's true, then why did a band of you all just try to murder me?" Advan cast his head down, in shame. Well, that was interesting.

"Those girls were young. They were not meant to be alone, either," He said, "The rest that attacked were only trying to protect them. We didn't know it was you." 

Loki looked at him. _And why should you care, anyhow?_

He narrowed his gaze, refusing to be kept alive by these people, only for the purpose of fulfilling one of their ridiculous prophecies but the man must have misunderstood his gaze because he then added, "We will, obviously, behead them at dawn for their insolence." Loki raised an eyebrow. Surprised. 

"What? No!" Stark pushed part of the ripped cloth away from his face, glaring down at Advan. "You can't just kill them, because of a mistake, that's - !"

"And why not?" Loki asked him coolly, turning to look at him. "They attempted to kill us."

"One of them did, and that's not the point," Stark rounded on him. "They made a mistake. And - really important word there - _attempted_ to kill. They didn't get far, did they and they're 'young' apparently so you can't just - " The point of a knife was suddenly pressed beneath Stark's chin and he snapped his jaw shut, swallowing.

"Do not think yourself above us, slave." Advan growled, tilting Stark's head back with a tight grip in his hair. 

Loki watched the knife press deeper into Stark's skin, watched fear flicker in those blue eyes, before placing a hand on Advan's sleeve. 

However much he agreed that Stark should die, he had made a deal. And he had bound himself to it. With all that was happening, all the chaos and running and escaping, he was not about to lose the one base that he knew and he understood. 

Stark was a risk but he knew him. Knew who he was, what he could do, and where he came from. And, more importantly, thanks to their deal he knew that Stark would not try to kill him when they worked together. 

Advan stared at the hand halting his movements and then pulled it back. Stark lifted his head up and rubbed at his throat, his eyes wide and his neck tinged pink, "He is under your protection?"

Loki stared at him in return, still frowning in confusion at this all. A prophecy was always seen as something important and something urgent to the Vanir but to go so far as to make certain Loki was happy with them as well as alive, made him wonder just what it was that they'd seen. 

Had they seen him planning on killing them all or destroying their realm, or perhaps they thought it was his doing the Trolls and Giants had invaded and that if he were pleased with them he would stop the attack? 

Whichever it was, he suddenly had noble Vanir willing and prepared to do his bidding. 

"He is," He ignored Stark's stunned look, as he spoke, "We have a deal."

Advan didn't seem to like that answer and he held the knife tighter, staring at Stark with suspicion, "A deal? Who is he, then, to strike one with you?" 

It would most likely be unwise to mention Thor now, after all that had happened before. And the woman from before - Kari - had said that she didn't answer to Asgardians. Though she'd been wrong, someone had given her that idea, and that someone must have reason to know hate the Asgardians. 

And whether these people were helping him now or not, one wrong word could easily end a respite.

Who knew what they thought of Asgardian's now. Perhaps they even blamed them for what happened here. 

"No one," He answered, leaning forward. At Advan's wary look, he then added to appease him, "Merely a Midgardian courtesan I found," Advan's eyes roamed over Stark when the mortal tensed at Loki's words, "He's rather good, so I would be thankful if you didn't kill him," As Asgardians were known for their lust, it was as suitable an explanation as any, and Advan seemed to be satisfied with it. 

Stark's nails bit into his leg in response, however, hidden behind the wood but Loki simply turned away from him. He then twisted his legs around, and leapt out of the cart. His bare feet felt cool in the mud and he cringed at the feel of it, but kept his face blank and cold. Stark was yanked forward by the chain connecting them, and he would have fallen into the mud hard, had the boy Bonir not stopped him.

The Vanir crowded him, the torches in their hands bobbing along with them and it was then that he realized how many of them were quite wounded. They were also staring at him with the same awe that the scribe had had on her face. 

When she'd called him savior. 

"You will tell me what has happened here," He said, turning to Advan, "You will tell me what has happened to all your homes to the villages and the cities and," He glanced back a the crowd, "Exactly what this prophecy of yours entails," With another small glance at Stark, Advan nodded at his request, "I also wish for food and water." 

"Our shelter is just ahead," Advan told him, pointing through the trees. "There will be a meal then, for you to eat." Loki's chest almost swelled. 

He had not been treated as such for so long. Since before Thor's crowning as heir in fact, when Odin had been alive and he let himself smile at the notion; glad that for once something was not ending in bloodshed.

Loki nodded at Advan and climbed back into the cart when asked to. 

He was also asked, yet again, about the two girls that had attacked them but at Stark's glare, he simply shook his head. Stark could be angry at him if he wished to but he owed the scribe his life. 

He would not send her to death, so lightly, no matter how deluded she was. 

Advan then turned away from him with a grim smile and dropped the cloth back down. 

And, slowly, the cart to roll forward once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for my bad writing x


	11. Everyone has a tale to tell.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _'Don't have a mother,' he said. Not only had he no mother, but he had not the slightest desire to have one. He thought them very over-rated persons._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia: Advan is not the son of Hogun from the Warrior's three. His dad's name is just Hogun :)

.

"We are no warrior realm."

We do not seek out our fights and we strive to remain peaceful and ever loyal to our King; Odin. And 'twas because of this, we were unprepared." 

The candle beside Loki guttered in the wind as Advan spoke. He sat still, silent and listening. 

Before him was a plate of meat and cheese, a mug of juice made from fruit mixed with honey. Not much for a so-called 'meal' but his hunger had not complained to him yet. 

It was still night and the Vanir that lived here didn't risk too much firelight in their shelter so he could only see the shadows of faces; illuminated by the array of candles around them all. 

"They came from the hills. We had no warning. No signs given to us. We had never foretold anything such as that night but," Advan paused, lowering his eyes as his voice hitched in his throat, "But our memories of it don't - it all echoes in our dreams still."

"How many were there?" Loki asked him, taking a scoop of fresh berries from the bowl handed to him. 

Advan glanced up at him, his beard quivering as he jerked his head, "The first night, there were over a hundred Giants that stormed our land," A soft gasp from beside him and Loki flitted a look at Stark, seeing his eyes reflecting the light and after eliciting only that one small sound he fell silent again, "Our villages were pillaged before we could even send for help. Any warriors that could have defended them had been called to the city." 

"And what _of_ the city?" Loki questioned, his eyes hooded in the dark. He had heard a great many things about the City of Vanaheim, of it's high walls and fortress-like structure. It made no sense that with a city like that, there were still Giants roaming the land here. 

Advan shook his head slowly, grief weighing on his shoulders. "The City fell." Loki lifted his head, setting the fruit in his hand down, as he stared across the table at Advan. 

The Vanir sitting on the ground nearest the table had fallen silent as they listened in, and the air stank of grief, "We kept it strong," Advan continued, his voice wavering, "But there were too many. The hundred that had come on the first night had multiplied, spilling out from the crevices of our land. Taking everything. The Jötun followed after the Storm Giants, ruining and destroying all. _Snow_ now covers the lower regions, where there was only always grass." 

A sense of bitterness began to creep into Advan's voice, "The City fell; after days of battle. Battle that tore us from within, but it was at the citadel, where it met it's ruin - " There was a clatter, startling many of them and a woman bustled around on the ground to gather the food she had dropped. Stark slid to his knees to help her. He hadn't touched his food. 

"We lost many - too many - and there are still those searching for their families. We have no homes, no grand City and we have had no hope for too long. Our scribes are littered everywhere, lost in their minds and their magic. We have become slaves, prisoners, made to fight for amusement and tormented in the knowledge that our realm is no longer ours." 

The ladle in Advan's hand splintered in his grip and a young man from behind him placed a hand on his shoulder. The ladle was then released and Loki watched him unclench his hands from around it; letting it roll back onto the table. 

He leant forward on the stool he was seated on, the coat that they'd given him draped loosely over his shoulders and he bent his back to let it fall closer to him. He was still bare from the waist up beneath it and had chosen to ignore the giggling of the adolescent girls behind him, whenever they saw his chest, "And the shaking?" He asked, resolutely looking past the sadness in Advan's gaze. "Were the Giants the cause of that, as well?" 

Advan looked at him expectantly, as though waiting for Loki to elaborate, and when he didn't, he asked: "Shaking, sire?" 

_Sire_. It's been too long since he was called that. 

"Yes, the quakes." Loki took a gulp from the juice, his eyes watering at it's sour flavor, "The first I saw of it was on Asgard. The Grand hall was torn apart by one, and it was then that I was transported here." Advan shared a look with the man on his chair, before leaning closer to Loki. 

"The Grand hall," He whispered, his brows pulled together tight. "Has been destroyed?" Loki sighed. So much for being given knowledge finally, if all they were to be given was only the tales of an old man. If they didn't know of the shaking, then what did they know? That their realm had been taken from them, and they had nothing left to call their own? 

No real answers. 

"How has this happened?" 

"I don't know." Loki murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was in the hall, the ground shook, and the walls crumbled. The last thing I saw there was the throne, seated in the midst of it, before I awoke in Vanaheim." 

"This is - " Advan sat back with a heavy exhale, running a hand down his face. The boy on his chair turned to him with concern. "The _Grand Hall_ ..." 

"Father?" Advan turned to him startled, "What is it?" 

And, as if a switch had been pressed, Advan's entire face morphed into a wide smile and he shook his head reassuringly. "Nothing, boy. Nothing." 

Loki squinted at him. It was so obvious that he was lying but the boy said nothing about it, content to let his father hold the burden of his problems and nodded slowly, "Now," Advan pushed the boy to his feet, gesturing he leave, "I need you to go and check that the tents are ready for our guests, Ivan." 

The boy hesitated, "Go on. Go." At another gesture, Ivan straightened his back and nodded again. He took the hand of a younger girl seated by the table and headed back toward the tents. Loki scraped his canines together, watching them leave. 

Brother and Sister.

He watched the girl take her brother's hand unquestionably, following his lead away from the candles and into the darkness. She was young, innocent, easily moulded into whatever her brother saw fit to make her. Following him everywhere. 

He turned away. 

"Perhaps this will be easier if I tell you all that _I_ know," He said to Advan, aware that Stark had now returned to the table, "Just as you have just told me the extent of your knowledge. Then tomorrow," He raised his mug to his lips, "You may tell me this 'prophecy', of yours." 

As he took a sip of the juice, Advan ordered that more food be brought. Stark was cajoled by the woman he had assisted, into eating from his plate; despite telling her twice that he ' _wasn't hungry_ '. 

Loki tilted his head and drained the last of the juice, setting the mug down. It was instantly refilled but he waved the child away and reached for the water instead. Advan was watching him from across the table, and conversation had started elsewhere again, murmurs and laughs rising around them. For people who had nothing they seemed to be able to be merry about the smallest of things. 

"Speak then, sire." Advan prompted him, ripping the meat off the bone with his teeth, "Tell me of Asgard. What happened to the hall?"

Loki pushed his bottom lip out with his tongue, running it over his teeth. "I don't know what the state the hall is in now. I told you already that the last I saw of it, was when the walls were being pulled apart. The shaking has also occurred in Vanaheim. In the forest, not far from here. The ground separated from itself and half the trees there were lost to an abyss."

"You were there?" Advan asked him, his fingers dripping with grease. "You saw this?"

"We almost _died_ in it," Stark said, drawing Advan's gaze to him again. "It wasn't as bad as the one on Asgard but - "

" _You_ were in the Grand Hall," Advan drawled, giving Loki a brief look. "Is a courtesan now allowed in court? Does the King need you to caress him as he delivers speeches?" He laughed at his own joke, oblivious to the tension in Loki's shoulders at the mention of Thor. 

Stark flushed darkly, swallowing, and looking down. 

"He dances for our sessions," Loki said, easing the claim just a little and taking pity on Stark's shame, "But yes, he was there when the shaking began so he's seen it also," Advan's chuckles subsided and he reached for his meat again. Loki watched him eat, losing his own appetite bit by bit, "But, of your tale of what has happened here, you have made no mention of the Trolls," At Advan's blank look, Loki continued. "Since my arrival on Vanaheim, I have seen more than just Giants about your realm. There are Trolls here, as well. I was captured myself. By Storm Giants and the Troll; Ulik." Advan paused in his eating at the name, his shoulders slumping in either resignation or chagrin. "In the arena, which you already seem to know exists, there were more Trolls there than Giants."

"I have not - "

"There were also elves."

" _Elves_?" 

"Three that I saw but there may be more. And neither were they peaceful." Advan chewed on a nail, his meat discarded and his face became lined more and more with worry, "And," Loki spared a glance at the people seated around them, "Along with them, I saw Vanir in the crowd," A deep line formed over Advan's forehead and he glared at his food.

"Aye. There are those who have joined with the Giants," He grumbled, bitterly, "They are still slaves though willing ones, now. And they know of our shelters, which is why we must be careful. Money and food is all they care about, not family and loyalty."

"And they're willing to trade lives for that?" Stark spoke up again, his cheeks still dark. Advan looked irritated that he had, but nodded nonetheless. 

"They are traitors." He growled. "Corrupt souls. We have no love for them so you needn't worry. We'll not turn you to the Giants as they would. We are _no_ traitors."

"Oh, I'm not worried." Loki said, lightly, "You've shown me the inner side of your shelter. Where you sleep and where you eat. You have even shown me your children," Advan stared at him, "If you try to give me to them, I will destroy your shelter and kill your family. And it would be easy too. So, no. I'm not worried." Advan swallowed, and nodded again, very slowly. 

His eyes were now slightly wary of him. Something Loki was long used to seeing.

"You cannot think us the traitors when it was you who escaped that arena." Loki turned his head to the left to see that Ivan had returned. He stood to attention beside Stark with his sister tugging on his leg, trying to pull him away. Stark had his lips pressed together and wasn't looking at either of them which meant that the boy must have heard Loki's threat, "It's impossible to leave alive without making a deal. So _you_ must be a traitor and so we must kill _you_."

"Ivan." Advan said, curtly. "To your mother. Now." Ivan's chest heaved at his father's reprimand but he held his ground, keeping Loki's gaze. There was the faintest tremor in his fingers. 

"You are afraid of me," Loki murmured, amused. The boy's curled into fists and Loki laughed then, sure to make him flinch, "Am I, then, the creature of your nightmares?" 

"I only fear the Giant's." The boy spat, childish in his anger. "You are just a story, Loki Liesmith. And I don't fear _stories_ ," Loki stood then, towering over the child. 

"Oh but I'm not just a story, now am I." He murmured, his voice low and rough, "I'm very real. I'm standing right here, right in front of you. And if you have heard the 'stories' of me, then you are right to fear. Ivan." Ivan glanced at his father, as though for help. "Give me your hand." He pulled his fists back and Loki smiled sharply at him. "I wasn't talking to you, boy." It took him a moment to catch on before Ivan began pulling his sister back but Loki crouched in front her when she hesitated to leave unlike her brother. "Give me your hand child." 

"Leave them alone, Loki." Stark shifted toward them in his seat. He was quiet enough, that no one heard his arrogance but Loki gave him a sharp look anyhow. When he turned back, the girl was just staring at him. Her eyes were brown, shimmering with magic. 

She would grow to be a seer. 

"Your hand," Slowly, with her brother still tugging on her shoulder, she patted her hand onto Loki's palm. Ivan's breath hitched and he jerked his head toward his father for help again but Advan didn't move. 

The girl blinked at him expectantly, and Loki flitted his eyes between both of hers. He could sense fear there, along with curiosity. New things, new people. 

An independent soul. 

He smiled at her, "Pleased to meet you," He said, shaking the girl's hand in two large swings. She giggled softly at his exaggerated handshake, the fear in her eyes dissolving until there was only the curiosity and she shook his hand back, "May I know your name, little one?" She said nothing, watching their hands move as if in a trance and giggled again. 

"She cannot speak," Ivan answered for her, pulling her back again now that she was no longer resisting, "She's only young." Loki straightened from his crouch, the bones in his knees cracking.

"She can speak." He corrected the boy, brusquely, "She chooses not to." Ivan looked away with a sneer, soothing his sister even though she wasn't even afraid in the slightest.

Stark was staring at him but, taking into account where they were, held his tongue. 

"I escaped from the arena by making a deal, yes." Loki answered the question from before, and Ivan looked up at him from under his lashes, "The deal was, that if I won a fight between seven Trolls, then I was free to leave." Loki leant closer, lowering his voice until it was but a whisper and Ivan hunched his shoulders when he saw him so near. "And I did win. I killed all seven of them. Add that to your _stories_." The boy recoiled, biting his lip but he didn't respond in any other way. He simply lifted his sister onto his shoulders and walked quickly down the slope away from Loki and back to the tents. 

Or, presumably, to his mother. Just as his father had told him to. 

"Her name is Rowan." Advan told him as he sat back down.

"Keep her away from her brother," Was Loki's blunt answer. He pulled the coat tighter around him as he sat back down. 

He missed his armor, it'd kept him far warmer than any fur that they could give him but the healer that had seen to him had told him that it had been ruined beyond repair. 

His blood had spilled over it, along with the Trolls', and the lapels had been singed from fire. 

They'd burned it _for_ him, and yet, he couldn't help but resent them for that. Whether it was ruined or not, it had been his armor from Asgard and he'd sworn to wear it as he fought. To wear it to his death. "He's not good for her."

"I kinda think that's up to the parents," Stark muttered into his mug, choking a little at the sweetness of the juice. 

"Your son checked the tents, I assume?" Loki asked Advan as he changed his mind about sitting and stood. At the man's nod, he took the coat off and kicked the stool back, "I'll retire for the night, then. I thank you for your hospitality." Whoever said he couldn't be grateful. "I also wish for some clothes and something to warm the blankets that I'll be sleeping in."

"My wife has left something there for you already." Advan told him, standing as Loki walked past. "Good night, sire." Loki nodded, turning to Stark, who was already on his feet and walking toward him.

"I really don't like that guy." He hissed to Loki as they walked to the tent. "Everyone else is fine, but he - " He grunted under his breath, sighing. "I don't like him." Loki pushed past him to walk ahead. 

"You seem to think that I care what you like and dislike, Stark." He said, pulling the flap to the tent back. "So let me tell you now," Seating himself on the feather stuffed cushions, he gave Stark a faux smile. "I don't." 

Stark rolled his eyes from where he was standing and folded his arms across his chest, "Right. Sorry. Forgot who I was talking to."

"Then don't do that again." 

Stark shrugged at him, picking at the material of the tent's flap.

Loki turned from him and lifted the clothing that had been promised. The shirt left there was long, fit for nobility and as green as the lapels of his old armor. It was soft, useless for protection but enough for comfort. The trousers were as long as the shirt, silken and black.

They'd have to do. 

If these people had made so large a shelter here, then that probably meant that they would be saying for quite some time. If that was so, then he could easily get other clothing if he needed it. 

The floor of the tent had been completely covered in cloth and there were numerous cushions strewn everywhere, along with blankets and fur. Stones that had been kept in fire had been placed around the walls, and it was cosily warm. 

He wasn't as tired as he'd been the night before but to sleep in comfort would do him good. Folding the clothing, he set them to one side and began to tug off the trousers he was wearing. 

Preparing for bed. Behind him, Stark cleared his throat and he turned to him.

"Before you take all that off which, um, is just a little traumatizing for me, so thanks," He glanced away awkwardly when Loki ignored him and continued to undress, "Could you explain to me where exactly they're expected me to sleep?" Loki pulled the trousers off completely and scoffed softly at Stark's question.

"They mean for you to sleep in here," He said, tossing the trousers behind him and standing there. Bare. "After all, you _are_ meant to be my slave. Well. My courtesan," He bent to kick blankets out of the way, and Stark cleared his throat again, still not looking at him. "And a slave must stay with it's master." 

Stark grit his teeth audibly. "Yeah that's not exactly what I'm - "

"Then sleep outside." Loki countered before he could even begin to complain. 

Stark did look at him then. He gave him a look of disgust, keeping his eyes fixed on Loki's face but clearly struggling from straying to the rest of him. Loki raised an eyebrow, gesturing he either leave or lay down, but he didn't move. 

Then, as though concluding that this would be best, he stomped toward him and grabbed two blankets under his arm, spinning around to leave the tent. When the flap fell back in place after him, Loki huffed out a short laugh. 

The nights here were bitterly cold and with no fire and with the thin clothing that Stark had on, he was likely to have a very rough night. 

With or without the blankets he'd taken. Shaking his head with amusement, Loki climbed into the warmth himself and settled beneath the fur. 

Sleep came all too easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping you're enjoying this, anyone reading. :)
> 
> Also, a courtesan can either be a mistress to a noble man or a prostitute.


	12. Sometimes pain is the only listener.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _Weir recoiled under Stephen's indignant saliva._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you anyone still reading :)

.

"You drool when you're sleeping, did you know that?" Loki stirred, already half awake at the sound of the tent's flap opening and now more alert at the sound of Stark's voice, "Which kinda makes you a little less intimidating when you see it first-hand," He opened his eyes, giving Stark an unimpressed glare before straightening. 

He wiped at his mouth, blinking at the brightness from outside. Morning. He'd slept through the dawn.

"And as a pretty nice touch, it's also a little more embarrassing. For you."

"What are you doing in here?" Loki grumbled darkly, his mind still slightly muddled from the sleep he'd had, which should be understandable given his lack of it during these past few weeks but it was irritating nonetheless, "I thought you were adamant about sleeping away from me."

"I was. Am. I am still adamant about that," Stark said, standing at the same time as Loki did, before visibly remembering that Loki was naked and promptly spinning around, "But, as you can clearly see, it's morning now. And you didn't wake up nice and early like everybody else, so they sent me in here to get you," He hunched his shoulders with his back still to the other man. Loki simply stretched, taking his time; knowing how uncomfortable Stark must be facing the other direction. 

Feeling vulnerable like that.

"They're loving this ordering around thing, too," Stark's voice took on a falsetto pitch. " _It's been too long since we've had someone lower than us about_ ," Loki reached for the clothes then, tuning Stark out bit by bit, "It's like being the meerkat in a pack of lions. Bottom of the food chain, and they're lording it like nobody's - "

"Who else is awake?" Loki interrupted him, sliding his sword into the scabbard that had been left for him. There was also a dagger amongst the cloth, something he had not seen before sleeping and he tucked it into his belt as an afterthought.

Stark turned then, his foot caught on the cloth of a blanket and he shook it off as he spoke, "Er, everyone," He said with a shrug. "Like, everyone-everyone. Even the kids," Loki frowned, glancing down at the dent in the fur that his head had made while he'd been sleeping over it. He usually woke at the slightest sound. 

Could he have actually been that tired? 

"They're all going on and on about how 'odd' it is, that you've slept so late. As though it's some kind of big deal around here. Sleeping too much."

"It implies laziness and insincerity to your values," Loki muttered in answer, mostly to himself. "Neither of which Midgardians seem to cherish."

"Neither of which _you_ seem to, either," Stark bit back, but his face took on a faint look of alarm when Loki began to walk past him and toward the flap. He quickly reached for him, "Wait. Before you go out there -" He hesitated, as though deciding whether he should say what was on his mind or not, "Can I talk to you first?"

Loki shrugged off his grip and opened the flap. "No."

"It's important."

"So is breakfast."

"It's about your mother." Loki froze. 

His grip tightened on the tent's material. Stark didn't move as he watched him, staying quiet. Slowly, and hating himself for doing so, Loki turned to look at him. 

"What of the Queen?"

****************

The forest came alive at night, but when morning rolled over, it didn't simply doze. 

There was still chatter from the animals and now more of it was directed at the two children who had disturbed them in the first place; walking through the trees so early in the day.

"Ingriede - Ingriede, wait, we shouldn't be here," A bird squawked from above them in an ash tree and both children jumped at the sound, "We should go back," The youngest of them hissed at his sister, tugging on the silken sleeve of her dress, "Please, let us go back!"

"Shush." She pushed him back, hugging herself tight from the wind, "We can't go back yet. Father said he would be back by noon yesterday. He's never been late."

"Well maybe he is, this time." The boy stumbled after her, glancing around and behind in paranoid frenzy. "Maybe he got lost. He'll find his way."

"He's never late, Asger. You know that." Another bird let out it's cry, swooping far too close to their heads. The boy screamed, batting his arms in the air to drive it away. He was grabbed by his sister's arms, and shaken until he quietened, "Shut up! Do you want us to be discovered by any Giants around here? We'd be killed!"

"Ingriede, please." The brother whimpered in her grasp. "I want to go back to the shelter. Please let us go back. If the others aren't worried about father, then we shouldn't be. He's stronger than us. He's always been fine on his - "

" _They're_ not worried you idiot, because it's not their father who's missing," She let go of him, grabbing his hand in a tight hold and pulling him along, "And those visitors are distracting them anyway," She made a face. "The Asgardian and his slave. Why should we care for them? If the Asgardians were so special, then they would have stopped this from happening in the first place! Besides," She froze at the sound of a twig snapping, and then gave her brother a stern look when she discovered it was him breaking one in his hand. "Ivan said that he was going to kill us all anyway, so I'm not staying there any longer."

"Who's going to kill us?" Asger asked, his eyes widening. "The _slave_?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course not!" Asger's head lowered and, despite her anger toward those at the shelter, she softened her tone at his dejection. "The slave was kind to us remember. He said he wouldn't tell anyone we'd gone."

"But you didn't tell him we'd be gone _forever_." Asger said, glaring at her back. He pulled his hand out of her grip when she carried on walking. "He might get in trouble because of us."

"Well, that's not our problem." She said lightly, folding her arms across her chest. "All we need to do is find father and then we never have to go back."

"If he was kind, then why are you being cruel in return?" She groaned at her brother's reply, throwing her head back in annoyance. He glared at her in return, childish in his anger, and there were tears shining in his eyes. 

"Kindness is foolishness." She replied, curtly. "That's what Ivan says." Then she took his hand again, dragging him along regardless of all his protests.

"I don't care what Ivan says!" Asger shouted at her, ignoring her panicked look at the echo he caused. "He's a horrid person, and he lies through his teeth!"

"Shut up, Asger." She hissed at him, her own anger rising again. "You don't know what you're talking about - "

"I _do_ know! I know that you think you love him but he's a _pig_! A mean, horrid and cruel boar. Just like you!" Asger wrenched his hand back, "And I hate him! I hate Ivan! And I _hate_ you!" She froze, jerking her head down to stare at him and he took the opportunity to push her back. Before she could grab him again, he leapt over a branch and ran back in the direction of the shelter.

" _Asger_! Asger no!" She raced after him, shoving branches out of her face. "Asger, you can't run off on your own! You could get - " She tripped in the mud, her knees hitting the ground hard and when she looked up she saw her brother disappearing into the trees. 

Without even looking back. 

And it was then. It was then that she noticed how silent it had suddenly become.

The chatter of the forest animals and insects had quietened. And there were no more birds squawking in the trees. 

It was as if everything around her had suddenly burrowed into the earth. Or had taken flight. 

Had hid. 

"Asger?" She tried to shout but her voice came out only a whisper. She was almost going to dismiss the silence as her imagination. As her fear of being left alone. 

But then, in the bushes not far from where her feet were twitching on the ground, there was a growl. It was deep, rumbled in the throat and _raw_.

Another followed it's echo soon after, keeping a chorus of hunger-filled sounds resonating around her. Like nothing she had ever heard before. No animal she knew could make a noise like that. 

She didn't move, shivering in the mud as more of it seeped through her clothes and onto her skin. A spider crept down her cheek, it's web tickling her skin as it moved and she whimpered in her throat. 

The thuds of something heavy came close to her ears, still hidden by bushes and leaves and she kept her gaze pinned to the ground. 

She was shaking, she couldn't help it and the spider bounced over her face; making her squeeze her eyes shut. More thuds followed, the purr of a predator filling the silence. 

Then. Nothing.

She slowly opened her eyes, her lips pressed so tight together that it was hard to pry them apart. Around her, the noise of the forest started up again. 

Croaks of toads and the flutter of light faeries warming her fear away. 

She let her relief cling to her, her hands still white from having clenched together.

And then she heard her brother scream.

"Asger." 

Without a moments hesitation she scrambled to her feet, holding her dress up to her thighs and sprinting through the trees. Her brother's screams followed her, fooling her into thinking that she knew where they were coming from but the sound of it bounded everywhere.

"Asger!" She screamed, hoping to draw whatever had her brother toward her instead. 

To attack her and to leave him alone. 

But still, her brother screamed. He screamed and he cried and he gargled in pain, " _Asger_!" 

She tore through the trees, ripping her dress off from the waist and hurtling over the branches that littered her path, "Please. Pleasepleaseplease - " Her brother's screams became sickening, rebounding through her mind as she kept up a chant of her own pleas. 

" _Please, please, please_." 

"Asger!" She shouted, bursting into a clearing.

The screaming had stopped. 

Everything before her was covered in the shadow of the trees, creating darkness around the scattered twigs and leaves but the sun still shined over what she needed to see.

Her brother lay on his back, his body mangled and torn. Blood created dark stains all over his skin.

"No." 

And his face. 

She fell to her knees. 

There was nothing left of his face.

************************

"You are being deliberately hesitant." Loki said, sitting on the cushions on the floor. 

Stark sat opposite him, his knees bent to his waist and his eyes cast toward his feet instead of Loki. 

"I'm waiting." When all Stark did was scrape his teeth over his bottom lip, Loki sighed. "Out with it, Stark. Before I lose my patience." 

Stark glanced up at him with a glare, releasing his lip, "On Asgard," He began, scooting backward ever so slightly. Away from Loki. Whatever it was he wanted to say, it was clear he didn't think Loki will like it, "Thor introduced me to your mother. Well, he introduced all of us, but afterward ... she asked to see me privately." 

"And why did she do that?" Loki asked him, his voice low in boredom. He inspected his nails as Stark continued, digging the dirt beneath them out with the tip of the dagger until they were only dark in their griminess. 

"To talk about you."

Loki looked up then, catching Stark's gaze. "And what about me, did she wish to discuss with _you_?" He twisted the dagger around in his hands, aware that Stark was following it's movements with his eyes warily.

"A prophecy." 

Loki froze. His grip reflexively tightened over the dagger but Stark continued on regardless, "Not the one these guys are talking about, I think. But one about Asgard," The rushing in Loki's ears drowned out the rest of Stark's voice and he swallowed past the lump in his throat. 

So she _had_ seen. He released the dagger and the blade clinked as it hit a sequin on one of the cushions drawing Stark's eyes to him again.

"A prophecy." He repeated, his voice cold. "My mother's own one?"

"Yeah," Stark nodded, warily. He was still backing away as though he knew Loki had a right to be angry. 

And he was. He was very, rightly angry. 

"She said she'd been having it for a while and - " 

Loki's hands clenched, effectively silencing Stark.

So he had been correct. In his assumption that his mother had known and that she would never be one to keep it to herself. 

Because she'd not. She'd told Stark. 

_Stark_ had kept it to himself. _Stark_ had been responsible for what had happened. 

If he'd told Thor. If he'd warned others. They wouldn't even be here. Loki would have his magic, he would have answers, he wouldn't be in the pain that he was in now. 

The warning may have even been able to prevent the shaking from even occurring. If they'd known then they might have been able to stop it. 

Asgard may be full of people he loathed but it was his home. Even under rampage and anger at Thor, all he had done was hope to protect his realm. And now, thanks to Stark, he wasn't even _on_ Asgard. 

_He had **known**_. 

Loki's eyes flashed, the rage in them undisguised and Stark raised his hands as though trying to calm him, "No, wait, hold on a - " He jumped to his feet, stumbling back, but Loki was faster. "I don't think you're following me here, I meant - _ahk_!" Loki caught him easily and held him tight between his arms, crushing the air from his lungs and squeezing him all the more when Stark tried to pull away.

" _You knew_." He growled, pressing against Stark harder, making him gasp against him in protest. Stark's hands pawed at his chest as he strained to breathe, "You knew Asgard's hall would fall. You knew that _this_!" He kicked at Stark's legs, making them buckle so that he could only stand if he leaned more into Loki's pressuring hold. If it was only Loki holding him up "That this, _all_ , would happen. You _knew_."

" _What_?! No, that isn't - !" Stark writhed in his arms, punching him in the chest with whatever strength he had but Loki still wouldn't release him. He gulped in air, trying to breathe around Loki's grip. 

Trying to speak.

"No, that wasn't what I meant, I was - look, just listen to me for a -! " He pulled back but Loki followed, anger blinding him to anything else. 

He had been using more strength than necessary but Stark deserved it. Because of him, Asgard may be crumbling. May be in ruin without a king. Thor had fallen and Loki was in Vanaheim. 

And Stark had _known_ \- 

" _Stop_!" Stark cried out. 

Loki jerked his arms hard in response, his face cold in unmerciful fury. Stark made a hiccuping sound of pain in the back of his throat, his eyes dilating in shock and he stiffened.

When he didn't move again Loki loosened his grip, his eyes boring into the other man's. Looking for the remorse that should rightly lie within them. 

But Stark only gaped as though he'd just been stabbed. 

There was nothing in his eyes. His struggles slowed and the hands on Loki's chest slid down until they were limp at his side. Loki paused at this; stunned. He'd only squeezed the man. He hadn't broken any bones nor crushed anything within him and there was no blood. 

It had just been pain. 

He held him still but when Stark swooned against him dizzily, Loki immediately dropped him. 

He fell like a puppet, onto his knees first and then his back. His legs bent beneath him and his arms curled over his chest as he still continued to struggle for breath.

Loki let out a sharp exhale as he watched him buck on the ground. And slowly, he felt his anger dissipate as logic began to overcome it.

If Stark had truly known all this then he would have surely warned his friends from Midgard. 

He would not have let them be involved in the ruin, and he certainly wouldn't have been as shocked as he had been when the shaking had first started. Nor when the abyss had opened. 

Once again, Loki mused with his heart pounding, he had let his anger get away with him. 

He took a step back, away from Stark. 

Away from his guilt. 

_Stop!_

He pressed his lips together, his nostrils flaring. Stark had only been relaying what his mother had said. He hadn't been attacking him. Loki'd not meant to - he hadn't tried to - 

He clenched his jaw painfully, rebelling anything that told him to pity the mortal. Taking another step back, he took in Stark's smaller body, watching it rise as the man tried to stop whatever it was Loki had caused.

It was then that he focused on the faint glow on Stark's chest. The man's neck was pale but the light under his shirt still shined over it; blue in color.

He had seen the glow before, back at the arena but he hadn't found it important then. But now. 

Now, it was important. 

In the arena it had glowed a bright blue. It had pulsed and thrummed beneath Stark's shirt. But here, the glow was fainter and it was pulsing much faster than it had been then.

Like a heart beat that was gradually failing. 

Stark had his hands fumbling under his shirt for it, his movements clumsy in their panic. The shirt bunched as his hands crawled under it, and his eyes deadened as he found the light; assumption becoming reality. 

He dropped his hands to his side, and there was blood on them. Blood from broken glass. Loki's chest tightened as he watched Stark's lips begin to shake. 

"We had a deal," Stark said, his voice barely above a whisper. He turned his head toward Loki, with his chest heaving.

Loki found it hard to look into his eyes.

"We had a deal." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear in mind. None of the character death's will be Tony OR Loki, so you need not worry :D
> 
> And ..... I'm sorry Tony!!


	13. Back up and see the true picture.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _'They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,' Dudley told Harry. 'want to come upstairs and practice?'_  
>  _'No, thanks,' said Harry. 'The poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it- it might be sick_.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and for all your kudos and comments :D

.

The Vanir outside the tent were still bustling around. Their laughter and their voices all filtered through the air to make up for the deathly silence within the actual tent itself.

Stark lay on his back. He hadn't moved. He kept his eyes facing the roof of the tent, resolutely looking away from Loki and each breath he took looked pained. 

The first bout of hyperventilating and panic had passed and he had fallen into an unnatural silence. Breathing slowly with difficulty. His face was paler than Loki had ever seen it and the fear on it brought him none of the satisfaction that he had always thought it would.

Frigga had clearly thought Stark important enough or even understanding enough, to warrant speaking with him in private. To tell him that not only was she a seer - which would have been difficult to explain to someone who had never seen one - but to even retell a prophecy of her own to him. One she may not have even allowed _Thor_ to know of. 

He closed his eyes, imagining her face as she displayed images in the air to show Stark what she had seen. What may yet happen. 

And he had attacked before Stark could even have begun to tell him.

If there had been any love in her heart for him, still there after all he had done, there would be none now. She would not forgive him for this. For directly delivering the death blow of someone she must have trusted. A mortal; but a mortal she had spoken with, with whom she had laid her burdens on. 

Trusted more than her sons, despite knowing him for only a short while. And now he was dying. Because of Loki's anger. Because of his stupidity and his rashness. Of his incapability to _listen_.

_Stop!_

He opened his eyes, biting down on the inside of his cheeks. 

Stark still hadn't moved and the sweat from his chest had dampened his shirt completely. Every now and again, his eyes widened slightly as a new stab of pain wracked within him, before he settled against the fur beneath him again. 

From the twitching in his throat, it was easy to see that he was holding back either words or sobs. Hiding them because Loki was the only one here to hear them.

He sat back, rubbing his hands over his face. 

All those times he had wished to kill Stark and now that he was on the brink of succeeding, all he could feel was guilt. 

"I'll get you some water," He said, breaking the quiet of the tent. His voice was hoarse, roughened from the the time spent in silence and he cleared his throat, "Your mouth must be dry."

"I don't want water," Stark said, his voice flat if only for it's slight shakiness. "I want you to get out." Loki didn't move, "If I'm going to die, then it's sure as fuck not going to be near you. So, if you think that you owe me anything at all, get _out_." And now there was no mistaking the residue of tears in his words.

He was afraid. Not afraid of dying, judging from his personality, but afraid of dying here. Of dying where no one will remember him or even know of his death. 

Where no one will mourn him.

Loki stood slowly, stepping over the cushions in his way until he was kneeling beside Stark. Immediately Stark jerked his arms, trying to push himself up and away from him. Loki reached forward and pressed his shoulders down to stop his flailing.

"Stark - "

"Don't _touch_ me!" 

Loki kept his face blank as he stared over Stark. Stark's own eyes stared up at him, the blue shining a murderous light into Loki's green. His heart had clenched at the shout and he released his grip on Stark's shoulders. One finger at a time.

Stark's breathing slowed once again and he looked away, softening his voice. "Don't touch me."

Loki sat back on his heels, bending his head at the neck and sighing. If Stark died, then his mother's message would be worth nothing. Whether she'd forgive him for this or not, he had to know, "The prophecy." He said, reminding Stark of what had caused all this. He shifted closer, pointedly ignoring how Stark tried to move away when he did, "Tell me of my mother's prophecy." He paused, noticing the tension in Stark's arms, and then added, "I promise to listen this time."

Stark stared at him. From the look on his face, it wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking. "No."

"You will tell me." Loki ordered, striving to keep the hardness out of his voice. It was the least he could do, after all. Keep his temper in check, "It's not in your place to keep it from me."

Stark eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. "Then maybe you should have listened the _first time_ ," He snapped, thrumming low in his anger, "Maybe you should learn listen to people! And not try to kill the ones actually _helping_ you!" Stark's anger, though perfectly in his right, only resulted in spiking Loki's own from before.

He had made a mistake yes. He hadn't meant to hurt Stark so badly and he had acknowledged that.

He had _not_ purposefully tried to kill him and that accusation alone infuriated him further.

With half a lunge, he reached forward and grabbed Stark's chin, digging his nails into the soft skin there to keep his face turned toward Loki's.

"Was I to know that cracking the glow in your chest would kill you?" He snarled at him, ignoring the glare he received in return, "Was I to know you are so _fragile_?"

Stark's disgusted expression didn't change. He stared at Loki, as though he were comparing him to the foulest thing he'd ever seen. As though Loki _were_ the foulest thing. 

And perhaps he was.

"You're always so angry," Stark spat, his voice smaller than it had been before but that may have been down to the fact that Loki was restricting his air, "So angry when you have _nothing_ to be angry about," He shook his head, or did as much as he could with Loki's grip on him, "Is that what - all the things you've done, is that what they've been about? All your superiority-complexed comments and your invasion and your murdering. Is it all just to hide the fact that you're just another angry kid?" 

His tone became something ugly. Bitter. Almost pitying. "Someone who didn't get hugged enough." 

Loki refused to look away from him, tightening his grip as his anger heightened. He ignored Stark's words. He ignored the pain in the man's eyes. He ignored it all. All that was there was his - 

Anger.

With a frustrated sigh, Loki released Stark's face and sat back, pressing his fist to his mouth, "You do not know me, Stark." He managed to mutter past the overwhelming disappointment rolling within him. Aimed mostly at himself. 

"Just go." Stark murmured, his face turned back into the fur. There were now the crescents of nail-marks on his cheeks. Courtesy of Loki's own fingers, "Leave me some paper to write the prophecy down and you can have it. Whatever his majesty wants his majesty gets, right." 

There was no insult in his tone. Only resignation. 

"Leave it." Loki murmured into his fist. "Leave the prophecy." 

"Make up your damn mind!" Stark screamed at him then, suddenly, before crying out at whatever pain his burst of emotion had caused. There was a sudden hush outside the tent, and Loki could only guess what they thought was happening.

When their voices started up again and no one ventured in to check that all was well, Loki inched closer.

"I didn't say I no longer need the prophecy," He amended. "I do. I only meant - " He exhaled loudly, unsure of how to word things without Stark becoming emotional again, "I only meant for you to not move. You must be in pain."

"What do you care," Stark mumbled, looking back up at the roof again. "You're probably doing a snoopy dance in your head in celebration. Hurray, look at me, I've killed one of the Avengers." His throat caught, and he choked on the last word, "Dream come true."

Loki chewed on the inside of his cheek, his teeth raking over the pliant wall of skin and he made his decision.

"Move your hand." He ordered Stark, knocking it out of the way when Stark only looked at him and otherwise ignored his request. 

Unceremoniously lifting Stark's shirt, he inspected the broken glow inside his chest; ignoring Stark's squirming and protests, "What is it for?"

Stark simply pushed at his hand, determined to pull his shirt back down, "Get off me, you selfish son of a -" Loki grabbed his wrists, stopping them from hitting him and pushed at his chest.

"If I'm to try and repair it, then I must know what it does," Loki said forcefully, holding Stark's hands above his head. He shook him when he still struggled against his hold. "Tell me. Tell me what it does to you."

Stark grunted, twisting his torso to try and buck Loki off and away from him. He hissed when Loki's grip tightened, the pain from his chest maddening him and eventually causing him to calm when it hurt too much, "It's doesn't matter now." He muttered, "You can't fix it, so don't pretend you want to." He moaned a little, his face pinched at the stabs of pain he must be feeling. "Leave me alone."

"When I have tried, and failed, _then_ I will leave you." Loki countered, still holding his tanned wrists tight. "Now tell me what it does."

Stark held his gaze, a glare shimmering under the surface. "Look, there is no way in hell that I'm - !"

Loki bent over him, shaking him hard again. " _What does it do_?!"

"It keeps me alive!" Stark's hands twisted, almost breaking free as they tried to lunge for Loki. To throttle him, or punch him. Whatever he wanted, it was certainly to hurt him. "Or it did, at least. Before you came along."

"And how does it do that?" Loki continued, staring at the glow with a more avid fascination now, than anything else. 

Stark sneered at him, "That's all I'm telling you, dickface," He twisted his hands for a second time, but Loki only curled his fingers around them even more. 

He stopped moving at that, a light growl coming from behind his teeth. Any patience, anything he had repressed against Loki visibly shattered when Loki continued to restrain him and Stark slumped back. 

A darkened look coming over his face as his final weapon showed it's tongue, "You know," He started, breathing heavily, "I never did get what Thor sees in you. What he thinks is inside you. And you know what ... I doubt I ever will." 

Because there isn't something, is there," Loki didn't move, keeping his hands over Stark's wrist and he ignored any reactions his body unknowingly gave at the mention of Thor's name, "There isn't anything in you that he sees that the rest of us don't. Because it's gone, isn't it." Stark narrowed his eyes at him, his voice all Loki could hear. "Because you _are_ evil. You _are_ a monster. And the big guy's just living a lie, _isn't he_?!" 

Loki's eyes became slits as he bore down on Stark, anger like nothing he had ever felt erupting. "Just as you do, Stark? When you delude yourself into thinking that you're actually _worth_ something. Living a lie is what you mortals do and you. You especially. I have seen how you work and how you live. How you _fight_. And for all your pretending, you know. You know that compared to all those in your realm, you are worth _nothing_!" 

Stark spat in his face. 

There was a moment of complete silence between them both after that. Neither of them moved. The saliva on Loki's cheek was warm but as his skin grew hotter from the utter disrespect of Stark's reaction, it cooled over it disgustingly.

Stark stared into his eyes, wary of him now that he had acted so rashly but before Loki could even think about striking him in return a voice spoke out from behind him.

"I can heal him," Loki froze. He was aware of how they must look but he turned to her anyway. Eira stood just in front of the tent's flap, her hair pinned back with smooth sticks of mahogany wood and she wasn't wearing her cloak but didn't seem to be feel the chill of the wind from outside, "Please. Calm yourself. And - and let me." 

Her presence alone brought light to how ridiculous they were both being. There were Vanir just outside the tent. Loki wasn't one to request help - for anything - and certainly not for anyone else. But all this fuss could have easily been avoided if he'd just called for a noble or a scribe to assist him. 

Loki pushed off of Stark without hesitation. He yanked at one of the cloths on the floor, ripping the corner off and used it to wipe at his face as Eira strode across the tent toward Stark. She knelt beside him; taking in his flushed face. 

"Your heart is broken," She whispered to him, her gaze drifting to the glow on Stark's chest. His shirt was still bunched up, left there after Loki's tugging and he flinched when she laid a hand over it. 

Not touching, but hovering.

"It's not my heart. It just," He shivered when her hand skimmed further down. "It protects my heart. Kind of. It's a little compl - " She pressed a finger to his lips, smiling when he looked startled at the gesture and he fell quiet when she pulled away. 

"It looks painful." She murmured, seemingly to herself as she had just shushed Stark but Loki came closer anyway. He tossed the cloth away now that his face was clean and knelt by her.

"Can you heal him, or are you merely here to state the obvious?" Contrary to the usual reactions people gave Loki, she grinned at his scathing tone and shook her head.

"Are you still angry?" He frowned at her but answered truthfully with a shrug.

"No."

"Then I can heal him." He raised her eyebrows at her but she ignored him and abruptly pressed down hard on Stark's chest. Stark arched his back at whatever she did, his mouth open in surprise.

"I do not know how your heart works, mortal," Eira told Stark but when he tried to answer her, nothing came out. Whatever pressure she was giving him, it was enough to render him speechless, "But I can reverse whatever caused it to shatter. You may feel strange."

Stark choked a little, his breath returning when her hand hovered again. No longer pressing into the metal of his pretend heart, "Yeah, no kidding," He let out a startled gasp when she suddenly pressed harder, "Strange, doesn't even cover this, it - ah -"

"'Tis a simple spell." She said, not quite answering what he had said. But then, she hadn't seemed entirely all there before, "Simple enough for a mage." Hm. There was no doubting the accusation in her tone.

"From your tone, I can already tell that you are aware that I cannot conjure anything as of yet," He warned her, shifting closer to see the work of her magic and making sure Stark was too distracted to listen. Her lips tightened but instead of ignoring what he'd said, she jerked her head toward him.

"Your magic is in you. It cannot simply leave just because of a rift." She lifted her chin haughtily. "You are simply not trying hard enough."

Excuse me?

Loki leant closer, intent on warning her from ever speaking to him like that but the manic look in her eyes suddenly reminded him of her condition. 

Advan had said that the Scribes had withdrawn into themselves. That as their realm died, their sanity died with it. 

Eira was a scribe and after witnessing her reaction to him repelling her prophecy, any retort or comment that he'd had on his tongue was bitten back.

He had once been the victim of his own depleting sanity. It wasn't something he liked to be reminded of or targeted upon. She would likely feel the same.

He sat back then instead and let her work. 

She had begun to murmur under her breath. Murmuring words that Loki was very familiar with and his chest ached at the thought that he may never be able to say them again. 

His magic had been gone before but he had known why and how to get it back. Here, it was a problem he had pressed to the back of his mind because if he pondered on it too long he would panic. Because this time, he didn't know what had happened to it. And he didn't know how to get it back.

He pressed his lips together, repressing the thought again and the tinkle of glass distracted him fully.

The shards around Stark's glow clinked as they slid back into place, each crack and tiny fragment set back and whatever Loki had broken was being reversed by her spell. 

The glow began to brighten as she worked and Stark's eyes were wide and fascinated as he stared down at his own chest in awe. When the last piece fell into place, Stark took a deep breath from the ground; his mouth widening into a smile when he discovered he could do so properly again.

A simple spell indeed. 

Loki stared at his own hands, where he would easily have been able to do that same spell without all the arguments and fighting that he'd had with Stark. 

"Thank you." Stark said to her, his hand patting the glow gently, before knowing for certain that it would not shatter. "I thought that was it, I - thanks." He smiled at her, making her do so in return, "Really. Thank you."

Loki's jaw worked as he watched Stark continue to shower her with compliments on her magic and to thank her for what she did. He was grateful, that much was crystal clear but she never said anything to him in reply. 

He looked back up at them when Stark began to feel around the glow, checking and re-checking everything now that magic had touched it. It was then that he noticed Eira staring at him. 

He stared back, his teeth releasing his cheek.

If she expected him to thank her as well, then - 

"Magic is a gift, M'lord." She murmured to him fiercely, rising from her knelt position. He frowned at her, reminding himself yet again that she was, technically, insane, "You ought to know that better than any," And with that said and done, she lifted her dress up just enough that she could step over the cushions across the tent. She barely made it to the flap however, before a head poked in through it.

"Sire?" A young boy around the age that Loki had been when he'd first heard of the Frost Giants, nervously called in. With what this child must have seen happen to his realm, Loki's childhood seemed like nothing compared and that nervousness was well justified, "Advan says, well. He _asks_ that, if you are finished with your slave, if you would come to the table. There is," He looked over his shoulder briefly. Loki noticed that his eyes were almost overflowing with tears, "There is news, that you must hear." 

Loki said nothing but gave the boy a nod, tired of all this news and tales and problems. 

But if it would help him return to Asgard, then so be it. The child turned and fled from the tent at that, racing back to the table and Eira followed him without a backward glance at either of them. 

And again, there was silence.

Loki turned to Stark, unsure of what - precisely - would be appropriate to say after what had just happened. He stood, noticing how Stark still tried to move away from him when he did, and offered a hand to help him stand. 

Stark didn't take it.

He struggled to his feet on his own, still weak from whatever pain he had felt before and stood before Loki. 

They remained silent for a while, staring at each other. Tension rolled in Loki's shoulders and he fought back the urge to break the quiet with a neutral comment. To make peace after all the anger in them from their fights.

But Stark beat him to it. "They have news for you." He reminded him, tilting his head to one side. "And ... I'm not dead. Yay me." Loki blinked slowly, giving nothing away. "So if that's what you're in shock about then - "

"They have news." Loki repeated, interrupting Stark before he said something to spike them both again. He turned to leave the tent and sensed Stark pause behind him, probably to regather himself now that it finally hit him that he was no longer dying. There was a fumble when the man staggered, still dizzy from it all but he regained his footing and caught up with Loki. 

"You do know this gives me free reign to hurt you now, don't you." Stark said to him as they left the tent, out of the corner of his mouth. "You broke the deal, so now I can."

"I did not kill you, so you cannot kill me." Loki replied, staring forward, "Our deal still stands."

"Who said anything about killing? I'm talking about pain." Stark's breath caught as he spoke. He should not be walking after such a close-death experience, "And what exactly did they mean by: ' _finished with your slave_ '? Did they think you were killing me or something?" He scoffed. "Nice of them to do something about it."

"You never interfere with another's slave," Loki answered, ignoring Stark's distasteful grimace. A pair of children ran past them but other than that the shelter seemed empty. They must all be at the table, "And I imagine, that seeing as the boy was not surprised to see you alive, that is not what they assumed you and I were doing at all." 

He waited a whole three seconds before he heard Stark's audible sign of revolution and he repressed a smile. He didn't deserve to smile about any of this after that debacle.

"Sorry by the way," Stark muttered behind him, just a little sarcastically, after a while. "For the spitting and - for what I said. I don't usually get all, angry, like that." He paused, his hand unconsciously slipping under his shirt to check the glow once again. "That's more your thing, really."

"Well, I apologize for almost killing you." Loki countered, not directly looking at him. "Which, compared to what you are apologizing for, I believe I win when it comes to being drastic."

It took him a while but he eventually realized that the sound Stark was making, behind him, was a short and muffled laugh.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. .... hope you enjoyed? :) Sorry if the pace seems a bit fast, but trying to write in Loki's POV I've always assumed his thoughts would kind of race around each other. XD


	14. I've questioned my life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _Stanhope: My God! You bloody little swine! You think I don't care - you think you're the only soul who cares_!"

.

The table was in turmoil when they finally reached it.

Both sides were screaming at the opposite or at each other with their arguments mounting and their insults humiliating. Stark jerked to a halt beside him, blinking at the sight that met them and Loki guessed he must have done the same because his legs were no longer moving. 

The best comparison he could make of the spectacle was when witnessing the carnage of only a single barrel of mead being opened and none of the men within ten metres having drunk anything for months.

Advan was in the middle of it, standing in a heated debate with an elderly man and Ivan was by his side, siding with his father and demeaning the man before him. 

Eira was standing near the forgotten food and was watching everything with an almost excited expression, her eyes darting from one person to another and when there was the sound of a plate smashing, she grinned and went to investigate.

Another smash did not sound too promising and it was then that Loki realized his mouth was open slightly in shock.

"I think," Stark said to him slowly, just as a woman hurled herself onto the actual table itself to tower over the bellied man crowing at her. "That you'd better announce yourself."

Loki's eyes roamed over every Vanir before him with undisguised surprise. Where were the dignified nobles he'd seen the night before ... 

He took a step over a broken pot, the crack turning the heads of a few children at the back of the table but otherwise it went unnoticed. With a sigh he turned to Stark and snapped his fingers at him, pointing at the pieces of clay at his feet. 

Stark frowned for a moment, before understanding what he was asking and he folded his arms across his chest, giving him a foul look. 

Very well. 

Loki bent himself and picked up one of the larger pieces - giving Stark a pointed look as he did - along with a significantly larger rock. When there was a pause in all the shouting, he snapped the two together and the screech they created led them all to shout. They twisted their shoulders into their necks, scrunching their faces at the sound and when he stopped, all eyes were now on him.

And the last of the plates fell with a prolonged rattle.

Advan turned sharply in Loki's direction, his chin wobbling as he shook his head in startled shame, "Sire - "

Loki cleared his throat, interrupting whatever excuse the portly man seemed to think was appropriate, "I believe there is news, of some sort." He said instead, not quite raising his voice but the hush that had settled over them all allowed it to echo nonetheless, "I assume you thought it important, to have informed me of it so early in the day," His gaze darted from Advan to the others around the table, "Or would you like me to wait until your childishness has dispersed?"

The Vanir looked at each other and each took their seats slowly. The children scurried away to attend to - to whatever it was Vanir children occupied their time doing, whereas the more older ones, like Ivan, remained fixed by their parents' side. Standing to attention behind them. 

He'd missed this. Having others do as he told and seeing them cower under his anger when they failed to. It was nice to have it again, however short a while he was likely to keep it. 

He stood there, watching them, but still; no one said what it was they'd called him for.

Inwardly, Loki rolled his eyes impatiently but before he could express this in a manner they could see, a young woman sitting across from Advan stood. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy; from crying. 

She looked at no one but Loki as she rose to her feet and without speaking, she tossed a sack onto the table. The string untied at the force of her throw and the contents of it spilled out over the wood. 

The table's hush deepened and some turned their gaze away. 

Stark let out a sharp exhale and took a step forward to stand beside him, staring at the sack and the hand that was protruding out of it. Loki himself kept his eyes fixed on the blood that was seeping out of the blackened material of the sack and on the head that lay on it's side, gazing unseeingly up at him.

"Our scout," The woman barked, folding her arms across her chest when Loki looked up at her. "Or he was, my lord. Before a demon took him."

Advan slammed his hand, palm down, on the table. Clearly, she had said this to them before and, unsurprisingly, the idea had been rebuked. "This was no demon, woman." The rest of the table stirred at that and murmured either it's disagreement or agreement with his shout, "'Twas just a Giant. Hurting our people in a more brutal manner than they have before. Nothing more than that."

"Well, I disagree." She countered haughtily, tilting her chin up. Despite the tears on her face, she held herself strong. She also continued to look only at Loki but her arms tightened around her chest as she spoke to show her discomfort when he met her gaze, "Why would a Giant wish to dismantle m - the man _after_ murdering him? There would be naught for it to gain."

"Save the pleasure of doing so." Ivan piped up, ignoring the mother that hushed him. "Giant's enjoy killing. Why would they not enjoy ripping the body apart?"

The table erupted in agreement, and she pressed her lips together, her sharp eyes pinned to Loki's face. 

He looked away.

"No Giant could do this." He murmured to himself, glancing back down at the remains of the scout. The man's face was in ruin, his skin in strips about his head and the sockets of his eyes were empty. He roamed his eyes over the indents on his skull and the dirt on his teeth. 

Nothing he knew could do this. 

Stark nudged him and he straightened to look at him. At his sudden movement, Stark flinched back and a little confused for a brief second, he took a moment to remember the incident in the tent. Stark recovered quickly enough but his flinch was still odd behavior; after seeing him cover his fear so well before. But, no that was good. 

Showing fear in front of the Vanir was plausible for a slave. He should keep it up. 

When he looked back at the table, Loki found that their eyes were all on him again. He must have said his theory a lot more louder than he'd thought he had for they were all looking at him now. As though demanding - no - _expecting_ an explanation from him. 

Expecting that he know all the answers. That he, for once, was not to be blamed as the cause of all this in the first place. 

He cleared his throat, taking a seat at the table end before him and looking over at them all, "No Giant, Storm or otherwise, would be able to inflict wounds like these." His notion was met with silence and he kept his gaze away from the woman standing over them all.

"How so?" Ivan questioned after a while. His mouth was twisted as he looked at Loki, making him look as sour as he probably felt.

"Do you know of any Giants with claws, Ivan?" He lowered his voice until it was something dark. "One's that can rip through a Vanir's skin?" The table murmured to each other yet again, in concern - they must not have examined the body yet - but Loki and the woman, who still remained standing, said nothing as they did.

"Knives can do the same damage." A bearded man said, and another agreed with him; "Aye, knives can do worse than that."

"I think not," Loki scoffed and his opinion was echoed by others around the table, "Knives can inflict wounds similar but to _tatter_ the skin like this?" He shook his head, intent on drawing their attention to the wounds on the face and not inside it's mouth but he was interrupted. 

"Not the mention," Stark said from behind him, "The Giant's knives that I've seen, were straight-edged and blunt." The Vanir looked at him in surprise that he was speaking, but Stark continued undeterred. Though there was no doubt that he knew what they were thinking, "This was done by something jagged and incredibly sharp. And, even if they did find a knife that could be both, the precision is something else entirely." He paused, obviously conscious of the people now staring at him. Some with disgust, as he was a slave and should remember that, "Like Loki, uh, his _lordship_ said, this wasn't a Giant. This was a - er - an -" He faltered, clearly unknowledgeable in the creatures of this realm and if he stammered even more then that would be obvious.

"An animal." Loki finished for him, which was what he'd planned to say anyhow. "'Twas an animal. No more and no less." He met the woman's eyes from across the table. "Not a demon nor a Giant. There is nothing extraordinary nor nothing worth arguing over, with this death." He stood, and the Vanir followed in suit, rising with him. "And, nothing of importance either."

He turned to leave, but: "A scout's body was torn apart and you say that it is nothing of importance?" He paused, his back still to the table.

"I'm sorry." He said lightly, looking over his shoulder at her. "I meant, of importance to _me_." She must have had more to say, judging from her conviction with this but when she said nothing else whoever had silenced her had Loki's gratitude. 

Stark remained fixed to the spot when he passed him and only moved when Loki's grip on his arm caused him to stagger after him. 

He flinched again at that and shook his head, clearly annoyed at himself for doing so. And yet, as soon as they were out of sight, he wrenched it out of Loki's grasp and rubbed at it, glaring at the back of Loki's head as though he couldn't already sense the anger radiating off of him anyway.

They walked to the tent quickly, Loki's strides long and rushed in either anger or panic - He wasn't even sure himself. Stark jogged after him, a slight frown on his face.

"What do you know of this realm, Stark?" He asked him, pushing the flap to his tent back and entering through it. 

Stark shrugged, a little taken aback. "Um. Obviously, not much but - " Loki whipped his head around to face him and Stark took a step back.

"Then refrain from commenting on matters that hold none of your concern," Loki snapped, meeting his gaze, "I already have suspicions on some of these Vanir and I do not need you making it clear that you have not been here long."

Stark's gaze was cool as he looked at him in response but he ignored it in favor of a their more pressing problem. 

"That scout was not killed by an animal." He continued, in a more lighter tone than before to signal his change in mood.

Stark said nothing, he didn't even look at him. He seemed, or pretended at least, to find the tent's flap a lot more interesting than Loki suddenly.

"I have never seen any creature ever inflict such a wound on a man." He almost automatically tried to cast a spell, to see if anyone were listening to their conversation but he remembered at the last second that his magic wasn't - listening - to him anymore. 

And trying to use it now only resulted in splitting headaches. That was becoming rather a bigger problem than his other predicaments. He _needed_ his magic. He used it for everything.

He sighed, running a hand down his face and hiding his concern within himself; turning to face Stark fully, "Does anyone stand outside?"

"No." Curt. For Stark, at least. "I doubt anyone really gives a shit about you right now, so that doesn't really surprise me." 

Oh, perhaps not then.

"I did not kill that scout." He muttered, just slightly affronted. "I have nothing for them to question me on."

Stark's fingers flicked the flap back-and-forth. "I didn't say you killed him." He looked at him, "That scout was her husband. Her - The woman that stood up. Hers." 

Yes, that had been obvious.

"I'm aware."

"And you don't care?"

 _Why should he?_ "As I said already Stark, I did not kill him." 

He toyed with the knife in his belt, giving his hands something to do. The sunlight from outside the tent cast shadows on Stark's face and the crescents on his cheek, made from Loki's nails, were darkened.

"His death and her grief are nothing to me." Stark nodded, his face blank. When he said nothing else, Loki turned his back on him to the jug that was laid on a table. Homeless or not, the Vanir were well-stocked wherever they went and their tents were more houses made of material, than simple cloths erected over ground with sticks.

"These people gave you food, and shelter." Loki sighed to himself, drinking straight from the jug. However, impolite or childish that was. It wasn't as if anyone was going to share it. "They barely have enough to feed themselves and they made you a freaking _feast_. They're following you around, helping you, admiring you, and protecting you from anything out there that wants your head." Stark scoffed, "And now, when they're asking for your help? You act like _that_?" 

He paused and even without looking, Loki knew that he was waiting for him to say something, "We have a name for a person like that back on Earth. Well. Plenty of words actually, but I'm going to go with one of my favorites. _Asshole_."

"Tearful short speech Stark, but you forget." He drank again, trying to decide whether he liked the taste of the wine or not. "I lack the ability to actually care."

"Proved my point." Was Stark's soft reply, and he heard the flap open once again and knew that Stark had left the tent. He didn't turn around however, and only continued to drink from the jug.

He'll be back anyway. 

***********

Stark didn't come back and despite being wrong, Loki was glad. 

Alone as he wanted to be, he was finally able to think. At first, he'd attempted to summon his magic through short spells and mind power, but by the end all he had summoned was a bad mood when he'd failed each try. 

He'd then rested for a while and tried again, straining his mind and practically begging it to come back but still it refused. He must have tried for hours with no success. 

After emptying the rest of the jug into his stomach to belay his headache, he'd called for another and had lain on the fur in the middle of the tent to comprehend all that had happened so far. 

Since his fall from Asgard to Vanaheim, he'd not actually had opportunity nor the time to think on what had happened.

And as he did so, he began to realize just how little he truly knew for certain, about any of this. All he did know was that the shaking in Asgard had resulted in the hall breaking itself apart and opening of a void that had led him to Vanaheim. Since then, he had discovered that Giants and Trolls roamed the Vanir's realm and even elves had joined in with their bloodthirsty hobbies.

Not the mention that the shaking was not only occurring on Asgard but in the other nine realms as well.

He drank more wine as he lay there and heard shouts of Vanir going to hunt for food. 

He called for more wine when it ran out. 

There were problems and puzzles and riddled questions that ran through his mind and he had none of the variables to answer them.

And now, a scout had been returned with his face torn and he knew for certain that no creature in this realm could inflict such damage like that he had seen. 

He sighed, closing his eyes and licking a drop of wine off of his finger. There was also, still the prophecy his mother had told Stark. 

He had forgotten that already. When Stark finally returned, as he knew he would have to, he'd have to make him tell all then.

Or. Why wait. Stark must be outside somewhere, for where else would he go?

Standing, Loki stretched his legs; stiff from the hours sitting down or laying on his back and he staggered forward. He swayed slightly afterward and inwardly scolded himself. Drinking to calm oneself was usually something _Thor_ would do, and he was not - he stumbled back a step - was _not_ his brother. 

With an exaggerated backhand, he knocked the jug to the floor and left it there. Letting it spill whatever was left inside into the fur. His head still hurt and he kicked the jug in frustration. 

The wine had meant to cure that.

Like the Asgardians back home, when he was seen Vanir moved out of his way. But, in this instance, it was more to do with status than disgust at what he had become. At least, he let himself think that that was why. After seeing his uncaring nature this morning, they may already have changed their minds.

Stark wasn't hard to find. 

It seemed, that the Vanir who had not gone to hunt had not wished to give _Loki's_ "slave" any hard or trying duties without his permission and so, Stark had been charged with taking care of the children; while their mothers busied themselves with making weapons or with cooking. 

Or perhaps, judging from how relaxed and cheerful he was with this duty, Stark had offered to do so himself. Whatever it had been, it was an odd sight nonetheless.

Stark was sitting on the floor beside the pile of wood for burning and the youngest children of the shelter were clambering over him while he laughed and caught them when they fell. The slightly older ones, of more than five seasons in age, were sitting beside him and untangling complex knots that he had formed for them to tug at.

The cut below his eye, the one that a Troll must have given him in the arena had been tended to and it was stitched and sealed now. The bruises on his neck, however, were plain to see and it suddenly struck Loki then just how fragile mortals really were. 

Even a child tugging on his hair curiously caused Stark to wince and gently pull his head free. 

Loki approached, his footsteps soft and none of them looked up to see him. A child actually sitting on one of the logs, clambered off and handed Stark the now knot-free string.

"Hey, well done," Stark praised her, smiling a smile that Frigga had usually reserved for Loki for whenever they were in their private times together. The string was taken from the young girl and Stark twisted it together again, knotting it in more ways for her to untie. He then handed it back with the same smile still fluttering over his face, "Let's see how fast you can do undo these ones, okay."

The girl took the string happily, grinning at Stark and she bounded back to the log. She was focused so much on the string however that she collided with Loki's legs by not looking where she was going. Looking down at her, he recognized her as the girl from the other night. Rowan. 

She gazed up at him when he didn't move and smiled hesitantly. When he didn't smile back, she bowed her head and turned away to climb up the logs. Seated once again, he watched as she fiddled with the string to untie it's knots. 

He pressed a finger to his head, blinking at it's throbbing. His headache was getting worse.

"Finally decided to show the world your face, huh." Loki looked at Stark when he spoke and the coldness in his eyes - in complete contrast to how he looked at the children - startled him for some reason. He wasn't used to anyone looking at _him_ like that; unless the time he'd spent glaring hatefully at his own reflection after his exile, counted, "I'd kind of hoped you'd drank yourself to death in there," Loki stared at him, "I saw one of the boys bringing wine to your tent." Stark answered, unprompted.

"Well." Loki murmured, unsurprised at the mild slur to his voice, "Sorry to disappoint." Stark's eyebrows twitched down and Loki suddenly wanted to scream at him. 

He knew that that was the drink, bubbling all his emotion until it burst within him but after everything he had gone through - Odin's lies, his exile, Thor's constant betrayals and now these apocalyptic incidents - he was allowed a little stress. 

_Wasn't he_. 

Stark stood, the child that was still in his lap now held in his arms and he was looking at Loki with concern. And compared to the iciness of his earlier look, that was just slightly worrying, really. 

"Loki?" His head still ached and he shook it, struggling to blink without it causing a spike of pain to sear behind his eyes, "Loki, you're - Hey -!"

His hands were trembling and he felt strange. Dizzy even. Stark put the child down and several of them were now crying. The noise they made made him want to vomit and he lashed out at them with a shout. They were moved out of his way and Stark placed himself in front of them, taking Loki's half-hearted blow to his rips and doubling over. 

"Loki, wait. Your mouth's bleeding, you're - Look, Loki calm down, something's -" He couldn't focus. 

Stark's voice was a blur. 

He let his eyes slide shut as that was clearly what they wanted and his head still thrummed in pain. 

And with no amount of ceremony or warning, he pitched forward just as his mind shut down. He could feel himself juddering, every limb twitching and spasming and he wondered if this was punishment for what he had done to Stark. 

Perhaps he had even been the one who had done this to him. 

But, no. He couldn't have. And, anyhow, the last thing he felt before falling unconscious was Stark's arms wrapping around his chest. 

He wouldn't help him now would he. 

If he were the cause of it in the first place. 

"Loki?" 

He shut his eyes. 

. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: The man found mutilated is not connected to the children from before. :)
> 
> Again, I apologize for any typos and for the pace. So much seems to happen and these two never seem to be able to have a normal conversation :(


	15. This is a box. A special box.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _The old lie: Dulce et Decorum Est._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it took so long!

.

"Do you know what that is?" 

Loki bowed his head, turning away from the glare that he knew would be directed at him and uncurled his fists quickly. His hair, longer than he'd prefer it, but at the length his mother had deemed suitable for him, fluttered down past his ears to hang by his cheeks. And when nothing more was said, he remembered with a start that there had been a question. 

He shook his head, quickly, in answer.

"No."

Footsteps echoed over the stairs behind him, and he stood stock still, just as he'd been taught. With his arms loose at his sides, his head down, and his mouth shut. And kept shut. 

He was not supposed to make a fuss. He was not meant to insult or fight with others, nor make his disrespectful views heard. He knew that, he'd been _taught_ that. 

A hand clasped itself over his shoulder, firm and rough, larger than he'd ever think his own would grow to be, and he looked up then. Now given his permission to.

"I have seen you watch it, sometimes." Loki frowned slightly. He had been sure, all those times, that he had not been caught looking at it. "As though you did know what it was."

"I don't, I promise." Loki insisted, shaking his head again. Now that his head was raised, he could continue to look over the box, watching as the blue within it swirled and twisted. It was so beautiful. He didn't understand why his tutor had sent him away when he'd told him so.

"I know, my son." Odin murmured down to him, "You have not been taught of the realms or of the War yet. But you will," Odin's hand slipped off of his shoulder as he walked toward the glowing box. He draped a cloth over it, covering it, shielding it, and Loki sighed when he could not see it anymore. The glow faded completely beneath the material. "You will learn of it all soon, in your studies."

"And will Thor learn the same?" Loki asked, unable to stop himself. He stopped then, realizing the accusatory tone he'd had all too late, and now all he could think was: _Fool_. There had been a reason he had been taught to keep his mouth shut. 

However, contrary to his taught beliefs, Odin did not reprimand him for his brashness and simply nodded. Allowing him to continue. "I - Will Thor learn of this? Will he and I learn together now, instead of--" Odin looked him in the eye, and he faltered. "I only mean that we are always taught so separately. And with separate things. So - So I wondered..." He looked down, keeping his arms by his wide. "I wondered if we could, perhaps, study together? As there are things that Thor knows and that I do not, and I'd rather learn them also. They could be useful."

"Indeed." Odin murmured, sounding amused, and Loki backpedaled. Not wanting to lose his focus, should he choose to humor Loki in this.

"And I know that we, _sometimes_ , distract each other, but-"

He heard Odin chuckle then but this time the amusement only served to warm him, boosting his confidence. " - but, I'd prefer it anyhow." He finished, and when Odin took a step toward him, he looked up at him again; his eyes wide and sincere. "And I know that Thor would - _will_ \- as well."

Odin wasn't smiling, still walking toward him, but his one eye had slightly crinkled at the edge. "Ah but if you _do_ distract each other, then what would the benefit of learning together be?" He asked Loki, his voice as low as it usually was when he was asking these sort of questions. The questions that were only there to test Loki, to trick him, and to make him agree to things that he knew he did not like.

Loki opened his mouth to answer, knowing exactly which point of Odin's he could twist and manipulate, just to make Odin see things his way, but when he met his father's eye, he knew that that would not work on him. And so, he settled for a simple shrug. "I do not know, father. I would just prefer it, is all."

"Then you shall learn together." Odin said loudly, clasping his hand over Loki's bony shoulder once again. "But _only_ , if you first promise me something." Loki blinked, staring at him, and suddenly overwhelmingly unable to believe that Odin had actually _allowed_ him something. 

"A promise?" He forced out, "What promise?"

"A promise that you will train with your brother now. And with the warriors that he works with, also." Loki sucked in a breath before he had even finished, ready to complain and protest and shake his head. Because he _hated_ those so-called warriors. He hated them, with their pompous attitudes and their bullying nature, and he really, really would rather _not_ train with them, but Odin spoke over him before he could do anything. "Your brother has improved in both skill and strength since his sessions with these ... these _Warriors Three_."

"That is not all he has improved on." Loki muttered, bitterly, but Odin ignored him.

"And I believe that it would do you good Loki, if you trained with them also. So you may _strengthen_ these muscles of yours." And at that, he squeezed the hand on Loki's shoulder, shaking him slightly, and Loki giggled at the smile he finally received. 

"Alright, father." He said, slowly, "I promise."

"Good." Odin's hand left his shoulder and pushed him back gently. "Now, off you go." 

Loki nodded, pulling away, and brushing his lips over the back of Odin's hand once. With that done, he gave a hurried half-bow, and turned away.

"And Loki?" He looked back over his shoulder at Odin. "I do not ever wish to see you here _without_ someone - someone _other than your brother_ \- again. Understood?" Loki hesitated, suddenly wanting to refuse. After all, what the harm in watching the colors in a _box_ move around? " _Loki_ ... Is that understood?"

"Yes, father." He mumbled to him, "'Tis understood." He nodded at him once again, and then turned fully to run up the steps before him. His footsteps echoed over them just as Odin's had, if only lighter and gentler. But he was only small. He'd grow soon, and then his footsteps would be louder. Far louder than any that had ever walked in these halls.

However, he reached the top of the stairs slightly winded despite his imagines of being feared, and cursed to himself. He would need to train more certainly, if this flight of a mere fifty steps left him breathless.

Before he left through the doors, he snuck one last look back down at the box. Odin was standing beside it again and he had a hand placed over the material, softly stroking it almost tenderly. But the knuckles were stiff. As though all he wanted in this moment, was to clench his fingers hard, into fists and to smash the box down.

Loki stared, unable to look away, and as he watched, the room grew steadily colder. He shivered, his breath becoming mist that the air carried away, and icicles began to creep their way down over the stand that the box stood upon. The tinkling they made smothering any gasps that Loki let out in shock. 

When Odin saw what Loki had, he snatched his hand away from the box, glaring down at it with such _anger_ that Loki could not help but take a step back, and away, from it. 

And it was then that he realized just how fast his heart was thudding. And how his skin had began to - began to _burn_. 

He did not stay for another moment after that, and though his skin burned all the way back toward his chambers, he ignored it. Just as he ignored his mother when she called for him to stop and the servant whose tray he knocked over.

All he focused on, all he thought of, was the image of all that ice. Of all that cold and crackling icicles, just slithering out the box like _snakes_. 

So cold. And so - 

So _familiar_.

**************

Loki awoke without a sound. 

He did however, shoot upright instead of screaming and the result was a flurry of fumbling limbs as whoever had been beside him scrambled back at his sudden movement. 

He sat there, keeping still and breathing in slowly to calm his erratic heart, expelling any residue of his memory-dream from his mind. And only when he knew that he'd not react with any panic or with any murderous intentions, did he turn toward his bedside watcher. 

His throat burned as he turned his neck and no amount of swallowing or rubbing, eased that pain enough for him to not to wince when he cleared it. He turned anyway, ignoring it as best he could and saw Stark standing on the fur a foot away from him. Clutching his chest with one hand.

His eyes were wide, his throat bobbing as he took in short breaths and there were feathers scattered around them both. 

Stark's cheek was bleeding. 

Loki stared at him, preferring not to speak just yet but when he saw the purple and green bruises over his wrists and bare chest he realized that he would have no choice but to. If he intended to get some answers, that is.

"Stark," He started, sounding rather like he'd swallowed sediment before sleeping, "What hap -" He paused, taking a deep breath. " ... Care to explain?" 

Stark took a step forward, visibly relaxing when Loki didn't attack him and he picked feathers out of his hair as he walked, "You went nuts, to put it simply," Loki raised an eyebrow and Stark shrugged at him in response, "Well you did. I tried to hold you down which only really ended up causing _this_ ," He gestured to the blood on his cheek. 

A scratch. He could have done much worse. Well. He _had_ done much worse before. A scratch was far better than any repeats.

"And then you just froze for about ten minutes," Stark continued, rubbing at his cheek, "And then, _bam_ , suddenly you're awake again." 

He stared at Stark for a moment. 

The man was being purposefully lighthearted in all this, gesturing wildly with his hands and ignoring all that had happened before this. Which could only probably mean that something more had happened. 

But that didn't matter just yet; he would deal with that later. 

"I fell." Loki stated, instead. Remembering it all now. And instead of any anger that he usually would have expected his statement and memory to conjure up, he only really felt resignation. There were always attempts on his life - wherever he went - but he'd thought that at least here, after knowing that there was a prophecy on his _side_ for once, he'd hoped - 

"Yeah. You fell." Stark agreed, "Scared the shit out of me too. I thought you'd died and that we were suddenly under attack or something." Loki stared at him. "Not that you dying isn't something bad on it's _own_ or anything. I just wouldn't personally care if it was."

And that, despite it all, tugged a smile onto his lips. "Then why catch me?" He asked him, narrowing his eyes challengingly.

"Moment of weakness on my part," Stark said coolly, shrugging and sitting beside him on the fur. "And there were kids around. I'd be teaching them all the wrong stuff if I hadn't done that, wouldn't I."

Loki intended to comment back about Stark having no morals anyhow but the next inhale he took, left him too breathless to even try to speak and he noticed then, that the bandages on his torso - from the knife the Vanir had driven in him from before - had now gone. As had the scars and the marks from the Trolls. 

And from Thor.

Stark caught him looking and squirmed uncomfortably. 

"Eira fixed you up." He said, his eyes trailing over Loki's chest, "It was ... weird, to say the least."

Something reared in Loki, "You allowed her to touch me?" He felt himself stiffening, tensing up and growing angry over nothing once again, "While I was defenseless."

"You make it sound so dirty." Loki almost started toward him but his head and stomach swooped at even the thought of moving too fast, "And, on that point, how are you even _alive_?"

Loki blinked at him, still fuming and growling under his breath.

"I mean, I know how you're alive, I was there when she healed you but seriously. Even for a so-called God, it's still a little stra - no, it's a _lot_ of impossible to survive all that you have." 

And then, just like that, Loki's anger was replaced with something more sardonic.

"If I didn't know you better Stark, I'd say that you almost sounded impressed with my resilience." He was met with an unimpressed look, contrasting perfectly with what he had just said. "And you would have to elaborate with that, I'm afraid. There are many things that I have survi - "

"You were covered in broken bones when she started to heal you. Ones that you'd been hiding too - really scarily easily as well, might I add," Stark interrupted him, "And you'd been stabbed. Twice. And apparently - according to Eira - you must have been thrown into a wall at least three times at some point. _Hard_." Of course. On Asgard, with Thor. Their fights had gotten near murderous at times. At least, that had been Loki's intention. He wasn't sure he would ever know what Thor had been thinking during them, "So I repeat, how are you alive?"

Loki shrugged at him. "Luck."

"Don't believe that for a second." Stark muttered, folding his arms across his chest.

"There is more to me than meets the eye?" Loki inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"That I can live with." Stark hesitated then, looking down at Loki's bruised chest. Loki followed his gaze and scowled. If she'd healed his bones, then could she not at least have healed the bruises? "She said as well, Eira that is, that it's was no wonder you'd allowed yourself to be poisoned. If you couldn't even take care of simple wounds like this."

Loki's eyes flashed, the muscles in his arms tightening. " _Allowed_ myself?"

Stark raised both hands. "Her words, not mine." Loki still bristled nonetheless, leaning back to settle against the fur and he shifted in irritation when Stark shuffled backward, taking some of the fur with him. "I thought you couldn't be poisoned anyway," Stark continued curiously and Loki sighed, turning his face away. "Thor said it was impossible to poison you, because of - uh, I don't know, can't remember. Something to do with your magic?" Loki ignored the question. "Well, anyway, he said that you could sense it somehow. And that your body could automatically repel it." He decided to look at him then and Stark met his gaze, looking into his eyes as though that would somehow draw out an answer for him. "Is it not true, then?"

"Who poisoned me?" Loki asked instead of answering. Because he would not answer that question, why should he. That would mean allowing Stark to know that his magic no longer responded to him, not even to sense poison, and though he'd been lucid before with Eira healing him; he knew that Stark had not heard, "If you know, then tell me."

"I don't know, though."

"Then get out of my way," And there was the anger again. It must have just been hiding really, cowering under all their jokes and their light comments. 

Stark scraped his teeth over his bottom lip, looking over his shoulder at the tent's flap before looking back at Loki again and, slowly, shaking his head. 

"Sorry, but no." Loki began to rise, ignoring his answer but Stark's hands were on his chest then, trying to push him back down. And, frighteningly, it worked. 

He felt his arms give way under the shoves until he slumped back down over the fur and he could feel his eyes widening.

"And do you see why? You're kinda weak right now Loki, and everything's a little _moody_ out there." Loki glared up at him. "Don't look at me like that, Eira's the one who told me to keep you in here, anyway." He pressed his lips together and chirped: "Just following orders."

"And you take orders from this woman now?" Loki sneered at him, letting Stark's hands keep him down. It had exhausted him too quickly to even try to sit up against Stark's pushes and that alone had subdued him enough to want to just simply lie there, "Why? Did you take her to bed and find her too satisfactory to lose?"

"She saved your life, you dick. And mine too. So, even though _I_ can't believe I'm saying this, try to be a little more grateful alright," Stark muttered to him, but the coldness that was usually present in his voice was no longer there. He almost seemed to be ... _jesting_ with Loki now. 

Or, perhaps, this was simply a new form of insulting him.

"And no. Actually, I didn't sleep with her. And if I didn't know that she was a little too busy fucking the Priest's _daughter_ Kari right now, then maybe I would have offered. You never know." 

Well. That was a surprise. An unimportant one, but still. Surprising. And it must have shown on his face, for Stark grinned at him then, a little helplessly and suddenly secretly. "I accidentally walked in on them when I was looking for the wine you'd drank. It wasn't as pretty a sight as I'd imagine it to be but maybe that's because they're not human. Maybe we mortals do it differently." He let out a short laugh. "They, I mean. Maybe mortal _women_ do it differently, I mean I've never - " 

"I would rather not know," Loki grumbled, cutting him off before his voice began to give him a headache, "But. What I would like to know, is why _Eira_ has decided that I would benefit from being confined to a tent. And, why _you_ were looking for the wine that I drank."

Stark gave him a look. 

"Because the wine had the poison in it." Well done Stark. "I went around to try and find it and get someone to do some magic mambo jambo on it to see what kind of poison it was, which, may I just say, was the factor that saved your freaking _life_. Which, also reminds me, why aren't you freaking out?" It took a whole three seconds for Loki to realize Stark had asked a question. He'd completely missed all that he had said, lost to the incredibly fast pace of his mouth but Stark seemed unfazed by his hesitation, "You almost died about an hour ago."

"I have had many experiences with death Stark. So, believe me when I say this, I am very much used to that," Stark blinked at him but seemed at least satisfied with the answer.

"Okay, fine. It's not really important anyway, I was just curious. Wanted to make sure you hadn't lost any memories or something, which was why you were so calm - "

" - Stark - "

"The wine didn't just affect you on your own by the way," Loki sighed, but Stark simply rolled on. Oblivious to how irritating he was being, "Which is probably why no one's making a huge fuss right now about how someone just tried to kill you," Loki squinted at him. "Yeah, I know. They're a little slow when it comes to stuff like this. It was clearly aimed at you - again, _obvious_ \- but I ... don't know who did it yet. Sorry." 

He shifted closer, his hands sliding off of Loki's chest a little awkwardly when he visibly remembered that they were still resting there. "And Eira wants you to be 'confined' here, because _hello_? Someone just tried to kill you and you're weak enough right now that even _I_ can hold you down without even breaking a sweat. And I'm mortal. Does that not ring any warning bells for you?"

"Of course it does." Loki snapped, aggravated already.

"Then stop whining and lay back."

There were, quite literally, countless things that he could say to that. Threats, demands for respect, orders or mere insults but instead. Instead, Loki decided that it was easily to just do as he was told. 

If only because his body would prefer that too just now, rather than because Stark had said so. There would be a day where he'd listen to the demands of a mortal, one day perhaps but it was certainly not today.

"If, from what you have just said, you can hold me down so easily. Then how did I come to cause that bleed in my sleep?" Stark blinked at him, his hand coming to cup over his cheek and he patted at the blood there with the sleeve of his shirt. 

"You took me by surprise." He mumbled against the cloth, wiping at his face, "And, like I said before, you kinda went crazy. You destroyed half the pillows in here - hence the feathers - with like one hand. And, before you ask. No. You didn't scream." As he spoke, Stark shrugged his shoulders once and at the slip of his shirt's collar, Loki could see the darkened bruises littered over his neck and face. 

Some he knew had been made by his own hands, others from the Trolls, _but_.

But there was a fist shaped bruise now, just above his collarbone, that was almost certainly not by his hand. And the mark was too small for any Troll or Giant.

So something else had happened whilst he'd slept. To Stark at least.

"Do you ever seem to be able to stay out of trouble?" Stark looked at him. Looked as though he had not expected something like that to come from Loki's mouth. And, now that he thought more on it himself, it had sounded a little like concern for him. _Damn_. "You're littered with bruises Stark, and I do know which of those were given by me and by the Trolls."

For a moment, there was genuine confusion on Stark's face but then he was rubbing a finger over the mark on his neck. "Oh, right. This." He picked at dried flakes of mud that spotted his skin. "I - they'd thought - when you fell, everyone here thought that it was me who'd poisoned you and, well, you can see from this what their lovely reaction was." Well. At least some here were loyal, if misguidedly so. 

Stark gave a twisted smile when Loki said nothing in response - already his legs were aching from being still too long but until he gained a little more strength to move and to think, then he would have to stay put. 

At least, according to Stark, there were others in a similar position. That way, whoever had tried to kill him, would more than likely strike now while he was in bed, which would make them far more simpler to catch. All he would have to do is wait.

"Why did they not kill you?" He asked finally, breaking their momentary silence, "What stopped them?"

"The children." Stark answered softly, turning away from him. He stood, briefly towering over Loki, before walking toward the flap. "I'll - there's water by this Well they made. I'll go get some, and ... maybe let you share," He smiled mockingly, "Just 'cause I'm nice like that." Loki hummed in response.

"No wine." He warned him and Stark gave him a withering look.

"No shit, you think?" He was gone before Loki could reply. 

And with him now gone, Loki replayed their conversation back in his head, focusing on every bit of information that Stark had given him.

He'd been poisoned, that was the clearest fact that he had been given but there were no allegations yet as to who had even spiked the wine in the first place. Beside the one against Stark apparently, who had evidently been beaten for it. 

And Eira, the insane scribe, had not only banished the poison from his veins but had also healed all of his ailments and his wounds. Left him stable and stronger. 

Which, despite attitude toward this, he _was_ grateful for. That was the main reason why he was bitter about it. For there was nothing more irritating than owing another your life.

Stark himself was a true testament to that, if his demands for debt repayments and the deal they'd made were anything to go by.

And there was one other thing he _knew_. 

He knew that tomorrow - Tomorrow, whether he could stand or not, he would be leaving this place. The Vanir could stand on their own against the Giants and Trolls. He'd been waiting for an incident like this to happen and now that it had, it had left him bedridden. 

No, he will not stay here. Not where some went as far as wanting him dead.

And killing them all as penance would be a disgraceful waste of life. After all, some of them had even been kind toward him - something not as common to him over these long years - and there were many here that had never done anyone any wrong at all. 

His poisoner was but a needle in hay. And he would not waste time searching.

With these ideas and scraps of information now twisting through his mind, he allowed himself a small break to drift into sleep once more. Straying away from the casket and from Odin this time and only closing his eyes when he saw Stark return in the corner of his eye. 

With a bucket brimming full of water and a handful of herbs that Eira had likely told him to collect. 

He fell asleep to the sound of Stark as he moved around the tent, content to let his guard down with exhaustion filling his mind now and knowing that Stark would not kill him anyhow, though pain was apparently allowed after what he'd done to Stark's chest.

They had a deal, after all.

. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any mistakes or typos feel free to let me know :)
> 
> And, no. I was not portraying Odin as a good father. There are subtle hints to show that :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed XD


	16. A tale is not a home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _Look down, Look down. Don't look him in the eye._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait ... :(
> 
> Also, this chapter is Tony's point of view, yay!

.

Tony sat still beside the well, waiting for the light plop of the bucket as it finally hit the water down there for a second time this night. 

The camp behind him was silent and eerily still now that almost everyone was asleep and even though it was a little creepy to even be out here and away from all the company, he still preferred it to being with the rest of them.

The only thing on his mind right now though, wasn't the past couple of events of the previous days or even before that, but it was Thor's mother, Frigga, and what she'd told him before. 

The so-called prophecy - if he could even call it that - but it's what everyone else was calling these things and she _had_ told him that she was some kind of 'seer'. Or something. It hadn't even seemed anything too important then but he'd thought Loki would want to know, so he'd mentioned it.

His fingers lightly brushed over the arc reactor and he closed his eyes. Big mistake, apparently. 

But maybe Loki had had a reason to freak out. Maybe because after seeing all those injuries on the guy himself, he figured maybe he'd be a little wound up a too if it were him. 

Not enough to try and kill someone, but that was just Loki he guessed. Insane and angry most, if not all, of the time. 

He sighed to himself, shivering and rocking back and forth of the balls of his feet; remembering to scan the woods for Giants before standing in case any noticed him and found the camp. He'd had that lecture from Advan already. 

And if he did attract something, he wouldn't just get beaten up then, he'd be killed instead and that was the one thing about this place that really sucked. The basic lack of rights that he seemed to have. 

And the lack of sympathy. 

With another sigh, he bent at the waist and began to slowly haul the bucket up, his arms straining at it's weight. 

He'd been thrown into all this just as much as Loki had and probably with even more to lose. He came from an entirely different world and hadn't ever even been to others before - save from Asgard really and that was the first visit he'd ever had; where all the shaking and exploding glass had ended it all for everyone anyway. 

He still remembered Steve getting hit by falling rocks and falling into all that blackness with Thor and remembered how the Hulk - _Bruce_ \- 

He'd been _buried_. 

He shut his eyes again when the bucket was finally resting on the edge of the well, full of water and weighed down with it. He'd no idea if any of his team - excluding the two assassins that hadn't come - were even alive and he had no idea whether he'd ever make it back to Asgard and then back to Earth ever again.

And the thought of staying here, where he was treated like a nobody and thrown around over nothing most of the time didn't exactly help with his bad mood. He needed people, people he knew and people he liked and respected, and he needed his work and he needed JARVIS and his home. 

He needed Pepper, Rhodey, his team and hell, maybe he even needed Fury. 

To an extent. 

But what he didn't need was Loki. And all this running and fighting that he seemed to have constantly follow his Godly companion. Loki-the-grouch-with-a-bunch-of-issues who was waiting for him right now, back at the tent, as injured and as idiotic as he usually was. 

But, apparently fate decided that Tony didn't really know what he needed and what he didn't because it'd been almost five days now and he was still here. 

He thought back to Asgard instead, trying to remember everything he could. Who knew, maybe he'd remember something important; he scoffed to himself. 

He thought back to the rooms that he'd been shown through and to the golden walls that he'd been so fascinated with while everyone else had been celebrating in the hall. Celebrating Thor's big royal anniversary - which he really should have been doing too - but he'd been in another _world_. And no one had told him that he couldn't have been just a little curious about it all. 

It'd all been so fascinating. At first. And it still was, in a way, if he wasn't so damn scared all the time now about making it back home or about what was going to attack them next. 

He remembered, on Asgard, finding these two small rooms that took up a single hallway on their own and he remembered creeping inside them to find the place overfilled with bits of old parchment and with books and blunt, tiny swords. 

A kids room. With two doors though the room had been combined and the beds in the middle of it had been used as places for old armor to rest now; instead of for sleeping.

That had been when Frigga had found him, when she'd scared the living daylights out of him by tapping him on the shoulder when he'd been looking over a book of some kind of runes.

She'd offered him food, had said and reminded him that he was a guest when he'd told her 'no thanks' and then it had been bad manners to refuse again. She'd told him who's room this was, though he'd already guessed, and that had been weird in itself. Because one: he'd been speaking to the Queen of another planet,and two; he'd been in Thor and _Loki's_ old room. 

Back when they'd been a lot younger and when Loki had probably been a lot less evil. 

It had been strange to think that and Frigga - the Queen - had probably guessed what he'd been going over in his mind, because suddenly she'd started to tell him about all of these stories of the two boys' childhood.

All of the fights they'd had, all the competitions and the apologizes and games. He'd even laughed when she'd scowled at the mess on the bed, visibly remembering when they'd first started using their old rooms to just dump all their junk in. 

And then, she'd gone all serious all of the sudden, taking one of his hands in two of hers and knocking the mug that was in it, away impatiently. She'd made him swear not to tell Thor what she'd planned to say and her eyes had been flashing then, in a way that he'd only seen Loki's do and it'd been with a pang of fear that he'd remembered that she could also do magic; just like her son could. 

He'd nodded and he'd listened and he'd promised not to tell Thor, though he really hadn't seen what the big deal was. He could remember it all though and could remember that she'd only told him to not tell Thor so he'd figured that Loki was okay to tell. That maybe he should tell someone because they'd probably have a better chance at understanding it. 

But ... after how Loki had reacted, maybe not. He didn't know anymore. 

Scraping his fingers over the rim of the bucket, he turned away, reciting the words to himself in his head. He still hadn't gotten around them though it wasn't exactly a riddle. 

Still, he didn't have all the variables to even try and make any sense of it, but he remembered every word so that had to count for something, didn't it? 

.

  
 _Through day's break and through day's end._  
  
Sun will meet and moon's shine will go.  
  
Despair and grief will play it's part.  
  
And fragile hearts will take their blow.  


  
 _A King's mantle and a King's word._  
  
Uttered in dark times where threats,  
  
and evil doers, and demonic whispers,  
  
all went their ways unheard.  


  
 _No time lost and no time spared,_  
  
All could fall if only he dared,  
  
A King must stand and a King must speak  
  
For with no King, there is always only defeat.  


.

"None of us should wonder alone," Tony's eyes snapped open and he spun around, "Even the slaves," Ivan stepped out from the shadows behind the well, a bucket of his own in hand and a knife to cut his rope in the other.

"Sorry," Tony said without feeling, "Won't happen again," His sarcasm must have shown because Ivan's eyes darkened as he looked over him, the hand on the bucket tightening.

"You always seem to show none of the respect that a slave ought to have. As though the only slave-aspect of you is only the clothing that you wear," Tony didn't say anything in response to that and simply gave the asshole a half-hearted bow before turning away. The bucket's weight made it harder to walk away with some dignity but it turned out he didn't need to because before he'd even taken a single step Ivan shouted after him and he stopped. 

"How is your master, slave?" Tony froze, biting down on his cheek briefly at the word 'Master', before carefully and deliberately placing the bucket down by his feet; looking over at Ivan instead. 

"Fine," He answered lightly, folding his arms across his chest and staring at him through the dark. Loki had called Ivan a child before, had called him young and rude, but to Tony he looked to be at least in his thirties. Broad shouldered, tall and dark-haired, he reminded him of Rhodey which only served to just make his heart ache all the more, "He's just fine. He's recovering well enough from the - um - from it." Then, just in case it looked a little suspicious not to, and because some children had fallen 'ill' as well, he added: "How's everyone else?" 

"The ailment is passing slowly, but it is passing, which is a blessing alone," Ivan answered, turning the knife slowly in his hands. For once, he actually looked like he cared about other people, then: "Fill my bucket for me slave, I've herbs to gather." 

Tony scowled at him, digging his own fingers into his arms. "Say please," He leered, grinning at the shocked glare Ivan gave him, due to his 'insolent' tone. "Come on, your royal dick-headiness. It's really not that hard, you know." 

Ivan started toward him, knife thrown down beside the well so that his fists had room to clench but before either of them could do anything to each other, there was a scream from behind them both.

Ivan stopped, spinning around to stare at the trees and Tony - 

There was another scream. 

Tony took a step forward at the third one, louder, full of fear and he met Ivan's eyes for one short second before running in it's direction. 

Ivan fled straight into the trees first, disappearing too quickly and too easily but Tony stopped first to hurriedly grab the knife that was sticking through the mud by the well. With it now in hand, he hurtled after Ivan, knocking the branches out of the way when they clung to his face and scratched at him.

"Hey - !" He called after Ivan, trying to stop him before he either attracted something to the camp or got himself killed but when his arm pushed aside yet another branch, it was grabbed tight and used then to tug him backward into a thick bush. He pulled away with a hissed shout, kicking out but the grip was immovable and Ivan only shushed him when he struggled against it.

"Quiet," He mouthed to Tony, using his hold on Tony's wrist to pull him forward until he was kneeling in front of Ivan instead of behind. They sat in silence, pressed against each other and slowing their breathing down until they couldn't hear it themselves. But then, at another scream, Tony jerked again and tried to bolt toward it, to help whoever it was but still Ivan refused to let go.

"Someone's in trouble out there," He hissed at him but Ivan ignored him and held him there and held him down. And it was only when the trees before him shook, did he realize why.

Two thundering footsteps joined the shaking trees and the next thing he knew was that he was staring between all the twigs and the leaves, straight at the bulging knee of a Troll.

And he suddenly couldn't breathe at all. 

Shit. Shit, shit, there shouldn't be one this close, there shouldn't be - 

The Troll didn't move for a while, listening out for any noise and twisting it's head around as it searched for any sign of life, oblivious to the two men sitting just below it's nose. 

Tony's heart thudded in his throat, every old bruise awakening at the sight of the very creature who's kin had given them to him, and he unconsciously pressed further back into Ivan. 

The Troll still didn't move and he was almost too scared to breathe now, defenseless and tiny, and stuck to someone who could shove him out of the bush at any moment like some kind of sacrifice. 

Tony started at the feel of Ivan's fingers skimming over his wrist toward the knife but he let him take it, it was his after all, and struggling to stop him would only draw them both some unwanted attention.

But. 

But when Ivan only leant forward even more, when he raised the knife to aim for the Troll's leg, Tony grabbed at him quickly. His eyes wide as he shook his head quickly, mouthing an urgent _no_ , and before Ivan could even shake his grip off, the Troll let out a low growl under it's breath and moved on; it's footsteps shaking the ground they sat on until eventually, they faded away as well. 

"You fool," Ivan whispered to him heatedly, shoving the knife back into his belt, "I could have killed that monster. I could have killed it easily, and then it would have been one less Troll to roam our lands," Tony just looked at the knife, "One less to worry about every day,"

So he was bitter about all this, then. Just like his father, which was understandable, he guessed. Was that why he was such a dick ...

"You would have gotten yourself killed along with it," Tony hissed back, his eyes narrowed, "Stabbing it's knee would have done nothing but make it angrier, trust me I've tried something similar and - "

" _Trust_ you," Ivan spat, clambering out of the bush, and sneering at him, "Trust - even your master, slave, does not trust you. Why, then, should I bother."

"It was a figure of speech, moron," Tony muttered, kicking back twigs when they caught onto his trousers, "And whether Loki does or not, is really none of your business. Nothing about either of us - well, especially about me - is any of your business at all."

"We took you in, slave," Ivan scoffed, and _god_ , enough with the "slave" already, he had a name! "I believe that warrants us some answers."

"Well, we don't have any, okay," Tony spat, "And I'm sorry about what happened to your home, I really am, but you need to stop using us as catalysts by somehow blaming this all on -"

"Blaming you?" Ivan let out a short laugh, "Is that what the God thinks?" He laughed to himself, fingering the knife with one hand, "He really is as arrogant as they say isn't he."

Tony gave a shrug, guessing that even though agreeing with that was what he really wanted to do, it wouldn't exactly earn him any brownie points, "Could say the same about you." He said instead and, of course, he'd forgotten about everyone's so short temper.

He was shoved back into the bush by Ivan's shoulder and held down as he was straddled by him, but at least he managed to get a good blow in himself this time. He was sick and tired of being pushed around like this by everyone, beaten and screamed at, just because of their so-called superhuman strength and superior egos. 

"You were never taught to ever hold your tongue, were you slave," From this close, Tony could see a scar on the tip of Ivan's ear, deep and visibly painful. 

"My name's not slave, Scar, it's _Tony_ , okay," Tony spat back, twisting to try and get out from under him, "And no. No, I wasn't taught that because I don't need to be taught that. Now get the hell off me, before - "

Ivan glared down at him, interrupting him before he'd even started properly, "Good. I have need of someone who can - "

" _Ivan_!" 

They both froze at the shout. 

Tony turned his head to the side, staring at the young girl that staggered out of the trees to lean against a stump. He grit his teeth, angry at Ivan for distracting him from the screaming and angry at himself for letting him, "Ivan, I found you, I - " She stumbled forward yet again, her arms sliding over the stump until she had nothing to hold her up. 

But in a single second, Ivan was off of Tony anyway and was running toward her to support her. "I found you, I found you ... " She was slurring, either from pain or exhaustion, Tony didn't know. She clutched at Ivan's shirt, "Ivan. Ivan, you must come. You must come, Ivan, you must come quickly - !"

"Ingriede," Ivan murmured to her, surprising Tony with how gentle he was being and at the sound of her name she immediately calmed. Ivan's eyes widened as he took in the mud on her dress, the tears and torn material over her. 

The blood drying on her hands.

Tony stumbled to his feet, standing just a few steps back from them, frowning and watching them both, "Ingriede, what -" Ivan held her closer, "What happened to you?"

"You must come, Ivan - " Ingriede continued, her throat raw and rough, tears clogging her words and making it hard to decipher most of them when she finally managed to push them out, "It's Asger, Ivan. He's - there was - " Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, the lids sliding shut just as she uttered a soft moan and without another word, she slumped forward into Ivan's arms. 

With a startled gasp, he caught her, lifting her and holding her close to his chest as he turned back toward Tony. Staring at him as though he'd just remembered that he was there. 

"You - " He started, before looking down at her again, "I don't - what do I do?" He looked lost enough that Tony had to take pity on him. His eyes roamed over the girl's - Ingriede's - state, and he stepped forward to check her over, keeping his face blank despite the shock that bubbled up at every injury on her that he found. 

"You need to get her back to camp," He said quietly, glancing around to check that nothing else had come after all the fuss that her cries had stirred in the wildlife around them, "She needs help and neither of us can give that to her here." Ivan still didn't move. He just stared down at her. "Come on, " Tony urged him, sharply, "Preferably before either that Troll, or - or _something else_ \- comes this way."

Ivan jerked at Tony's tone, his eyes hardening and he nodded quickly, holding the girl closer and running past Tony and past the trees; toward the camp. 

Tony ran after him, catching up less than easily but he kept glancing over his shoulder as he ran; searching for whatever it was that she'd been running from. He guessed it wasn't the Troll as the one they'd seen had seemed as confused as they were; and if he knew anything about these people, he knew that they were smart enough to not scream when there was a Troll nearby. 

But it was too dark too look properly now for whatever it was, and he couldn't see anything through the trees. 

But she had been running. She'd been _screaming_ at something, and that something must have been pretty close by. 

Must have been just there ... 

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any typos and mistakes, I apologize for <3


	17. Clashing and crashing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Muster the Rohirrim."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to apologize that this took so long, but listen to my excuse:
> 
> Three days ago, I had this chapter written out and ready for posting, when my laptop decided to refresh it's browser just as I copy-and-pasted it to A03 and deleted my original copy - stupid I know but I forget otherwise and would rather my parents didn't find any of my fics - and so I lost the chapter.
> 
> So I had to start all over again, and I have this nagging feeling that I've forgotten bits which is really annoying me, but here you go. Hope you enjoy, and sorry for the long while it took to update. <3

.

Loki awoke to the sound of hushed voices murmuring to each other in the tent. It was still night and every candle had been blown out by the wind by now, but when he opened his eyes, he could still make out two slight shadowed figures hauling something between them inside. 

A breeze from the open flap washed over his body as he slipped the blanket from him and reached for the dagger laid out over his folded shirt. He wrapped two fingers around it’s hilt, drawing it out of it's sheath silently, and sat up slowly with it now in hand. The prickles of pain in his torso reminded him that he was still healing, and he winced only very slightly, but neither of the figures noticed him even moving let alone hissing out in pain. 

A single candle was lit by a light rub of the two pheban rocks at the table, illuminating dark, blue eyes, and - _dare he even think it_ \- Loki actually relaxed against the fur; though he still kept a hold of the dagger, "I do hope you at least managed to get the water," He murmured dryly into the silence, and both men opposite him spun around with almost identically hushed shouts, "Or were you too preoccupied with whatever it is you’ve dragged in here?" The candle in Stark's hand flickered from his turn and it allowed Loki to see his face far more clearer than the man that stood beside him; though when he spoke next it became obvious who it was.

"You said he would be sleeping," Ivan hissed at Stark, ignoring Loki completely and turning his back to kneel beside whatever he'd carried in, "Yet another lie of yours, it seems."

Stark's glare mingled with Loki's own but he seemed to think that Ivan’s anger was necessary and turned away himself.

"He won't say anything, okay, so just try to learn how to relax," He spat, tilting the candle down to light four others, "He wants answers just like you, and we'll get them if we actually calm the hell _down_ for once," Not waiting for a reply, Stark stepped over the fur toward Loki and shook his head when he was looked at, "No water, no, but seeing as it was mostly for me anyway I kinda doubt that it really matters right now."

Loki followed him with his eyes as he sat just beside the fur he lay on, one knee tucked beneath him and the candle dancing by his eyes, "You brought a girl," He stated, narrowing his eyes, “Who is she?”, Now lit by the candles, he could see her laying there and he squinted as he stared, taking her in as much as he could in the dim light. Her clothes were ripped far beyond repair, blood-stained and muddy and that alone strung a warning inside him, but what struck him the most was that she was far paler than any Vanir he'd ever seen. 

She was dying.

"We found her in the forest," Stark answered, glancing over his shoulder at her, "She was screaming her head off and almost running straight into some Giants which _could_ have been what she was screaming at anyway but I don't think so," Loki followed his gaze, drifting his own over the young girl's body, "And ... I don't think he does either."

He, likely being Ivan. 

The boy himself was burning a handful of weeds over the candles and was hovering them just by the girl's nostrils; trying to rouse her from her unconsciousness.

"You ventured into the forest?" Loki asked, his eyes still on Ivan's hunched back, "Where is this Well you spoke of, I didn’t think it would lie so far in."

Stark gave him an odd look but answered just the same, "Just on the edge but we heard her screaming, so," Stark's fingers tightly wound together, rubbing between themselves in a gesture that Loki knew well. Thor tended to do the same whenever he knew that he'd done something wrong, "So I left the water and followed Ivan when he ran inside. We found her in there after coming across a Giant - just the one but there might be more out there right now - and she mentioned her brother and then just fainted," From his tone, it was clear that he was hiding something but Loki hadn't the patience to wait for him to "ready" himself to say it.

"There's something else," He said, feeling Stark fidget over the fur around them both, "Something that you don't want to say."

Stark's eyes met his now and he lowered his head, staring at the hands in his lap, "It doesn't really matter," He said, almost to himself, "I've told Ivan and, I guess, other than the girl's mother he's the only one who really needs to know."

So he had done something. But whatever guilt he was feeling or whatever mistake he'd made wasn't what he was keeping to himself. Loki frowned but left the subject, Stark could keep him going in circles knowing the man, and that would only waste their time.

Instead, Loki eased himself up and fully out of the blankets over him, standing with some difficulty. Stark stood along with him but made no move to help - save only for a single twitch that told Loki that his instincts were lead him forward to assist but his mind was holding him back. Well, it _was_ Loki that he wanted to help, so of course, it was clear that he'd think that no one should help the likes of someone like - 

His arm slipped out from beneath him, when he tried to use it to support himself but before he could fall onto his face there were suddenly hands over his chest; keeping him upright and pushing him to his feet. 

He used his own hands to assist them, heaving himself up when he at last could stand on his own and he stared at Stark. Stark’s eyes were softened as he looked at him, his need to help overwhelming any hatred that he must still feel. He opened his mouth to say something. 

Loki turned away and the hands fell from his chest. 

"You won't heal her that way," He called out to Ivan instead, softening his voice as Stark had done before, knowing that they must be whispering for some good reason but not caring enough to ask, "Herbs will rouse her, yes, but they will not reclaim her."

He felt Stark's eyes on him but ignored them when, slowly, Ivan straightened his spine and curled his hands into clenched fists, "And what, would you suggest then trickster," He asked, the herbs now crackling in his tightening grasp, "That I leave her to just lie here and die?"

Loki's face tightened. This. Was why he kept his help to himself, "There are healers in the camp, wake them." He then said with a shrug, carefully walking toward the jug on the table and holding a hand to his aching side. He'd just needed the help of a mortal to help him stand so with a boy like Ivan, who had already made his feelings on Loki clear, to be standing here with him so vulnerable, he felt decidedly and understandably uncomfortable, “Take her and get out yourself before I awaken them myself.” 

Ivan’s head shot up and he stood abruptly, "No you can’t," His eyes were wide and the weeds tumbled out of his hands, "I cannot wake them. You cannot wake them and if you try, I'll stop you." Loki paused, his hand curled around the jug's handle and he raised an eyebrow at him.

Well, if he refused, then she'll die no matter what he did. Fine. 

"If you don't wish for her to be healed, then let her die elsewhere," He said coolly, his eyes now finding the girl once again and he ignored whatever pang he felt at the youth on her face, "I wish to rest and I would rather not have her here choking on her own blood whilst I do."

Stark let out a small sound at that, of fury or of shock, Loki didn't know nor care to check, but he remained otherwise silent and crossed the tent toward the girl; kneeling beside her where Ivan no longer sat himself.

"If I awaken one, others will wake also and she will die no matter what they do," Ivan spat, anger sparking again at Loki's words, always hidden somewhere inside of him it seemed but apparently this time his explanation was more important than insulting his offender, "She will be punished for what she has done and no healer will even touch her. If I awaken them they will _choose_ to let her die, and _no one_ will be permitted to help," He gazed down at her, his eyebrows drawing close together, "I cannot let that happen."

The jug was left as Loki turned to look at him, his dry mouth now the least of the problems in the tent, "She's a girl. A child. What could she possibly have done that would warrant a death sentence?" He scoffed. 

"The rules we have here are strict," Ivan's hands were now wound together, much like Stark's had been before, "Too strict but I do understand why they must be this way. We need them there to survive, to -” “Get to the point, boy.” Ivan glared, “No one, and especially not children, are permitted to leave the camp without the company of either a guard or a knight because they may unintentionally lead something else here, may compromise the safety of everyone. And if anyone is to _break_ those rules -" Ivan cut himself off, running a hand through his hair, "My father cares for the safety of the masses well, but not of the individual. He will not care that she is young and that she made a mistake nor will he spare her for either," There was no mistaking the emotion in his voice. Nor the truth, "I would give my life for hers, Odinson. If only to show you how much this matters to me."

Loki stared. His face remaining blank, remaining cold and unimpressed, but inside his mind whirled. 

All his life he had been able to discern whether a person was being truthful or not. He'd been able to uncover the many secrets that they'd kept from him, been able to see through all the lies and yet, here a mere boy had eluded him. 

He'd seen a cold exterior, had heard the biting tongue, and had chosen to leave the interior to his own imagination. 

And he had been _wrong_

Loki’s jaw tightened, the bones creaking together. 

What good was he now if even his most basic skills no longer aided him as he needed them to? Lost in a realm full of blood and war, deprived of magic and now even his mind. He'd be dead within a week likely, and he'd only a mortal to help him. 

A mortal that despised him and who had almost died at Loki's hand only a day ago. 

Ivan's hands unclenched and he seemed to take Loki's silence as a refusal as he rounded on Stark instead, "This is your doing Slave," He spat. Stark merely blinked at him in surprise, "You swore that he'd be sleeping and it was _you_ who let Ingriede leave the camp in the first place,” Loki frowned, “And _you_ ought to take her punishment for her!"

_Let her leave?_

Stark's eyes shimmered in the dark and he swallowed visibly, standing to shut the flap of the tent as neither of them had remembered to on their way in and when he spoke his voice was low; full of guilt, "Look, I - I know that I should have said something but is _now_ really the time to -" Ivan scoffed and continued to glower at him, "Look, I made her a promise okay. I promised her that I wouldn't tell anyone and I'd no _idea_ about any of these consequences so what the hell would you expect to happen? It's probably why she came to me anyway and not to someone else - _like you_ \- because she knew that I'd not know about this. And I kept my promise didn’t I, so. So hopefully she'll be grateful for it seeing as it was for her."

"She's _dying_."

Stark's eyes flashed with their own anger now, "I _know_ ," He said behind clenched teeth, "I know that she is and I'm trying to help you _and_ her, so cut me a little slack will you and let's save all the shouting for later, okay"

"You _dare_ order me like that, you -" At a soft moan from the girl Ivan fell silent and he stared down at her once again, every muscle of it releasing it's tension all at once. Stark relaxed as well but from the look on his face, his nonchalance was likely forced. 

Loki looked at the girl also, at the blood flowing from her leg and chest. Stark’s guilt would have to wait. 

"Diesweed," He said and the both of them turned to look at him, startled as though they had forgotten he stood there as well, "Herbs will only rouse her but that wound on her leg will need to be tapered. Diesweed will work best for that," Ivan stared at him, his mouth opening either question or insult him but Loki continued before he could, "It can be found in forests like the one around us, settled in bushes with Binyon. Asgardian healers are prone to use it’s juices for wounds like this." 

It took only three seconds for comprehension to cloud in Ivan's eyes before he was staring at Loki like had never seen him before and he was on his feet and bolting through the tent's flap toward the forest the next moment. Loki didn’t miss Stark's small smile as he crossed the tent toward the girl - Ingriede - but neither did he address it. 

He simply knelt and gestured that Stark come closer to him. After some hesitation, he complied.

Stark knelt beside him and checked the girl's pulse, an automatic gesture, while Loki poured from the jug into his hand, swiping the water over her bloody knee, "Was that true?” Stark asked him, “Or did you just want to get rid of him?"

Loki brushed whatever of the girl's dress remained, out of the way and poured more water over the gaping wound there, "Diesweed will help, 'twas the truth" He answered, his eyes scanning over her now that the blood had washed off, "But she will need more than just that."

His magic would heal this wound in a heartbeat, he thought bitterly.

"Hold her head," He instructed Stark, "And use your other arm to slide her up. I'll need to see her leg." 

Stark gave him a strange look but, surprisingly, complied his request once again and lifted her as much as he could with one arm to push her further down the fur. Her hair was billowed around her head, knotted and tangled with leaves and mud and Loki reached over to wash the blood that was on her hands off as well, "Are you actually helping her here or just checking her out, because I have to tell you. I have limits and that really -"

"Your wit is not necessary Stark.” 

“I’m not being witty, I’m being serious. I wanna know. Are you actually helping her or not, because with you, I can never tell and - ” 

“Would you like her to die, Stark?" Loki asked, turning his head to look at him. Stark's lips pressed together, "You always seem to want to save lives don't you, so why not assist me now in attempting to do so myself," Stark still looked unconvinced though some little understanding bloomed on his face and he nodded all the same, brushing a lock of dirtied hair out of the girl's face, "Now give me your hand," This time he was rewarded with a startled glance.

"What?"

"I have need of your hand, give it to me." Loki repeated, snapping his fingers when Stark hesitated.

"The way you're asking you sound like you want me to chop it off and just hand it over, or someth - " Loki rolled his eyes with an impatient snarl and grabbed it himself, tugging Stark forward and letting him muffle his own yelp of surprise with his other hand, "Here," He moved Stark's hand, keeping it tightly held in one of his own over the wound in her leg, "I need you to feel this for me."

"What, why?" Stark tried to pull his hand out of Loki's grip and Loki shook him in return to keep him there.

"I need to know if my assumption is correct. It may save her so stay still," Stark blinked owlishly at him and then sighed, nodding once and grimacing when his fingers were made to dig into the exposed inner flesh. Loki slid his hand down, his own fingers skimming over Stark's knuckles, "What do you feel?"

"Bone," Stark murmured, even going so far as to close his eyes as though that would help, "I don't really feel much, to be honest. There's - _ow_!" 

This time Stark succeeded in pulling his hand out of Loki's but before he could rub at whatever'd been hurt, Loki snatched at it once again and twisted it around to see the palm. Stabbed into the pink skin there was a single tooth; curved and sharp, yellowing from the edge and dripping with darkening blood. 

It was bigger than two of Loki's fingers but slid out of Stark's hand at a simple poke.

Stark yanked his hand back and rubbed at the cut, glaring balefully at him while Loki lifted the tooth to examine it, "You knew that that'd be in her?" He asked, disgust written over his face.

"She has not yet woken and these herbs were by her face for longer than they should have been," Loki murmured, holding the tooth closer to the candlelight, "I knew that something would be _amiss_ , but I didn't think of this, no."

The tooth was sharper than Loki would have expected of anything like this to be, and it had pierced Stark’s skin far too easily after the man’s hand had only just brushed over it.

"So, wait, that tooth is what sent her to sleep?" Stark stared at it, obviously interested now despite himself, "So. Is it going to do the same to me?"

"If it were, you would be sleeping now," Loki answered, placing the tooth on the table and turning back to the girl. 

“So, saliva then," Stark thought, reaching for the tooth, only to be pushed back by Loki, "Or something similar." 

“Perhaps.” 

"That why you used _my_ hand, and not your own, asshole?" Loki smiled at Stark's scowl but it vanished as he looked back over the tooth at the table. 

If it had been the saliva or even a venom attached to the tooth, then Stark would either be dead or dying now as well. That only led to the conclusion that whatever had sent her to this state had been given directly from the creature itself as it had attacked her. 

But, he had never seen an animal that could work like that, at least, not one with a tooth so large. Snakes, spiders and poisonous vertebrae all had the power to send men to sleep or even to death, but this tooth could belong to neither.

It looked almost wolf-like in it’s structure but the only wolf that he knew with extraordinary abilities, was his own son. The son that was currently chained and locked away, far from this place. 

This. 

This _beast_ or whatever it had been, was decidedly not Fenrir and it didn't look like it was of anything that Loki had ever seen before. 

He sighed, one problem atop of another it seemed. 

"So,” Stark said, staring over the girl and obviously coming to the same sort of conclusion as Loki, “Who does the tooth … belong to, then?" 

Loki's frown was hidden in shadows but his silence clearly answered Stark’s assumption that he didn't know as the other man said nothing more on the subject. 

And then, on the floor before them, the girl stirred slowly, her brows drawing together and she hissed behind her teeth in pain. Stark moved back slightly, his gaze now alert and worried and he took one of her hands into both of his as he stared down at her; waiting.

Loki brushed his own fingers over the wound of hers once again and his frown deepened. Whatever it was now spreading through her blood wouldn't be healed by anything Ivan could find in a forest. He doubted even a healer could work their magic into helping her now. 

With another twitch, her head rolled to one side and she sighed softly, her lips pressed together. Stark pressed two fingers to her neck and swallowed but Loki could already see her breathing. She could hold out then apparently, but it was only a matter of time. And if she had drawn more Giants here then it was only a matter of time for them all.

And they had wasted enough. 

"Leave her," He told Stark, standing with a groan, "Leave her now and let's go. This place is no longer as safe as it was; if it were even that for us before anyway." 

Stark stood also, his eyes widening, "Woah, wait, you're just going to leave?" 

Loki paused in the act of reaching for the shirt the Vanir had given him and turned to him, "Yes," He said, as though it were the most obvious answer he could give, "Someone in this camp tried to kill me Stark in case you've forgotten, and many others are sick of the exact same poison. Now would be the perfect time to leave and I intend on taking full advantage of that," He pulled the shirt over his head, wincing when his fingers caught on the bandages there and tied the sword to the belt of his trousers, "You are welcome, in a way, to join me." 

"But what about the kid? I thought you were going to help her, you said - You can't just leave her like this!" 

"Her fate is set, Stark and whether it is the fault of you or not, there's nothing either of us can do for her now," He headed for the tent's flap, grabbing the bag that Advan had first given him that was filled with food from the feast, "If you wish to stay, stay and be killed. If you wish to leave - know that I will not stop to let you catch up nor when your mortal legs tire." 

He shouldered the tent's flap out of his way and stalked out, ignoring the eerie air of the silent camp and staring at the forests for the Giants that Stark had spoke of before. There were no footsteps behind him and the flap remained closed.

So Stark had chosen to stay. 

Loki scoffed. _Fool_. 

.

Ivan had yet to return which was odd, though he'd known that the weed would have been difficult to find but now he wondered if the boy had been killed in the forest after all that. He'd been running after all and would likely not be treading carefully or subtly in his search for the Diesweed. He'd be an easy prey. 

The camp remained silent as Loki crossed through it and only the trees whispering to each other in the dark betrayed any ill-feeling around it all. Now _would_ be the time to leave and he quickened his pace at that thought. From the static in the air, this place didn't seem in any way as safe as it first had and if there were Giants close by now, then there would be other things here too. 

Perhaps even whatever had attacked that girl. 

Loki barely made it to the edge of the camp, where the carts and horses were kept locked in their pens, when the trees at the far end rustled and shook from their peaks. He froze, at first assuming this to yet be another bout of shaking and he refused to be at the centre of it again but when nothing more happened he assumed that the Giants must have finally found the camp. 

Good. Some of the people here deserved whatever came next. 

So much for Advan's rules and punishments and Loki was suddenly glad that the girl was dying; she would not see what she had led to her home, what her mistake could cost her. Death was always so much easier. 

He saddled a black stallion, hushing it when it woke from it's sleep and he swung the bag over onto the left; keeping it from falling. The moon was out tonight and even in this darkness he could see quite clearly, could see his way out. He pulled at the reins, turning the horse toward the path furthest away from where he has seen the trees quivering but before he could even urge it into a fast trot, a burning torch was flung through the trees just seven feet from him. 

His hands clenched over the reins and he almost laughed to himself were he suddenly not frozen in fear. Too late

.

The horse screamed at the fire, rearing up but Loki kept a tight hold on the reins, tightening his thighs around the saddle in case he fell off of it the next time it bucked. The torch spun in the air, illuminating the camp for a brief moment before tumbling into the sand and dousing itself quickly. 

Loki blinked, trying to quiet the horse by stroking a hand down it's neck but it was as though the torch had been a symbol of some sort because just as the last of it's sparked died, a horn sounded from within the camp. A warning horn and he could even see the Vanir blowing it, when another torch was flung through the air. 

And when the camp began to stir, when the sounds of swords being drawn rang through the air, a coil of warmth flooded through Loki's stomach. They must have been expecting this, then. They must have known. 

_And hadn't told him._

"Hyah!" He kicked the horses ribs, spurring it on and over his shoulder he stared at the horn, watching it continue to be blown in warning and watching as more soldiers and more knights ventured out of their tents to march into a circle; staring at the trees with their weapons held high. 

At least half a mile from the camp, Loki had to stop for two reasons; he was still weak and had gotten out of breath too quickly, and the horse that he'd chosen was either a coward or was smart because just at the third torch it began to slowly grind its hooves backward instead; retreating from all the noise and from the prospect of danger.

And then. Unfortunately. When the first enemy, when the first Giant ventured out of the trees to attack, it chose to pull back the tree that Loki had just rested his palm upon to lean against. 

And, he barely had enough time to murmur out something in his shock, before the Giant - before the _Jotun_ standing there - decided that he was the enemy and struck him off from the horse with a severe backhand. 

It would take more than just that to send him to unconsciousness, he knew. His eyes blurred as he felt the Jotun's foot drive into his stomach, and he wished. He wished that it could.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, that last part went a bit fast. Sorry <3


	18. Would you rather I lived?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?'_
> 
> _'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I am _so_ sorry! What is life, huh? Just taking over everything I have until I've no time anymore ... ;( Here you are. Finally  <33

.

The camp was on fire. 

That was one of the first things that Loki noticed when he finally managed to roll onto his side and the searing heat of it all washed over his face; in sharp contrast to the bitter wind from before. 

The Jotun over him lifted a huge, frozen foot to come ploughing down into his stomach once again but Loki rolled in time, just managing to hit the edge of a cart instead, dodging the blow. 

The stallion that he'd taken had already bolted but the other horses still remained locked away, screaming and whinnying their distress both at the fire and at the Giants now storming their home. 

Loki staggered to his feet, his hands coming up to find his sword when he could finally move them again, but he was still dizzy from his fall; dark spots flashing in his eyes and he couldn't think past the pain spiking in his head. 

His fingers fumbled over the hilt, numb from the cold and clumsy in his panic, when the Jotun before him decided to growl out a single word in it's own native language. A word that Loki had already once heard, when he'd been very young and naively fascinated by all these Giants, and had been reprimanded for repeating. 

With the All-speak, he knew it's meaning but hearing it now still made him pause. 

_Traitor_. 

Pressing it back, he shook himself from his hesitation and unsheathed his sword, holding it up ready to attack, "I have never lived in Jotunheim," He spat at the Giant, slashing the sword out when it moved to strike him, successfully keeping it at bay. But that wouldn't last long, "What I did was no treason, it was Justice," He sneered at a second growl from the Jotun, wordless this time but through his defense he must have missed the other that came from behind. 

Hearing it's footsteps to his left, he was too late in acting on it and was lifted by a grip on both his legs; as though he weighed half of what he knew he did and flung into the air like some sort of doll. 

The sword clanged to the floor when it slid out of his loosened grasp and he couldn't help but cry out when every bone protested being grabbed again, caught and held upside down by the second Jotun's face. 

This. Was rather vexing. 

The Jotun's breath stank of old bread and sewage and as it brought Loki's face closer to it's mouth, he wondered suddenly if it were going to eat him. That would be odd for a Giant but they did despise him after all and having never felt so vulnerable in so long, he'd no idea what they'd want to do to him. 

He wasn't even in his armor, and though their hands didn't burn him, the grip wasn't exactly gentle. But then, nor would be an icicle to the heart. 

The Jotun opened it's mouth and despite himself, Loki flinched, "Where is the Midgardian?" 

What? "What?" 

The Jotun's voice was barely a whisper now, with the three of them so far from the fighting, but Loki was so close that it still rang in his ears; taking him a moment to process those words. 

"Where," The Jotun shook him, clacking Loki's teeth together painfully when his head snapped back, "Is the Midgardian?" 

Oh. 

They wanted Stark. 

They wanted _Stark_?

"Three days on from here," Loki lied automatically, giving his face just enough disdain to at least make it real, "If you plan on killing him, do make it slow. I'd love to hear that he died in pain." 

The Jotun barely blinked at his answer but then, even Laufey had fallen for Loki's tongue all those years ago and this one was only a soldier; just an ordinary Giant with no concept of doing anything other than following orders. What difference would there be? 

With the new information, Loki was then dropped hard onto his back and left to watch as they left him there and ran back into the trees. To either tell their leader what Loki had said, or to gather more orders to find Stark, he didn't know. 

What he did know, however, was that Stark was somewhere in the camp and that these Giants were now after him, for whatever reason. Well, reasons could wait. They always did, after all, until he'd the time to figure them out.

He checked for the stallion one more time and cursed when he knew that it'd left now - taking his bag with it - but he heaved himself onto his feet nonetheless and untied another; pulling and tugging at it's reins when it refused to leave the pen. Likely more afraid of the dangers outside of it's hold, than of Loki. 

The mare that he'd chosen had wings - something that would have fascinated a younger him once upon a time - but they'd been clipped; probably to keep her hidden from anyone that may see her fly. She snorted in his ear as he dragged her along. 

More Giants came his way, carrying their arms as weapons now morphed into sharpened icicles to pierce through whatever Vanir that tried to fight. Loki ducked behind the mare when they came past, hiding behind folds of ruined tents and flinching from the heat of the fire all around him. 

The Jotun retreated from the flames but attacked as they went, destroyed all that they'd not yet destroyed. There'd be nothing left of the camp soon. He couldn't stay here any longer ...

Loki tied the horse to a post beside the last of the tents and slipped past, thanking himself for having picked the tent furtherest from the rest; already hidden and safe in the trees, for he'd craved the solitude before, and had now inadvertently gained it more protection as no Giant had come this way yet. 

Children ran screaming and crying across his path, interrupting his run and drawing attention to him until he managed to pass them. Among them he saw Rowan, the young girl lost now without her brother, running after the others with too blank a face. Too calm for something like this. 

He almost followed them, almost stopped them from entering the forest as he knew that there'd be far more danger _there_ than here, but he had other things on his mind and the children would die no matter what he said or did. Either in the camp or in the forest, it didn't matter. There'd be no escape for any of the Vanir here. 

This far from the core of the camp, the inferno taking place there was no more than a glow and he could easily see the candle in his own tent flickering; showing that Stark was still in there. He ripped the tent's flap clean off as he stormed inside, grabbing said candle and blowing it out, "Get up." 

Stark had already jumped to his feet as soon as Loki had entered in alarm, but was now staring at him unimpressed, folding his arms across his chest and raising his eyebrows, "Oh so you decided to come back then, did you," Loki gave him one look before grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away from the broken entrance to the tent, "Ow - what the hell is your - " 

He pushed Stark against the table, stepping around the body of the girl and looking around the tent quickly to see if there were any more weapons that he may have missed and could use. His sudden urgency must have been obvious because Stark stopped mid-sentence and straightened, staring at him, "What's going on?" 

Loki's hands flew over the table, knocking countless things off of it, "We are under attack,"

"What?" 

"We," Loki emphasized, finding nothing he could use and turning back to face Stark again, "Are under. Attack." The tent shook along with the ground when something heavy fell to it not too far from where they were stood, "Now _move_." 

For once, Stark didn't argue with him but he still didn't move and when he opened his mouth to say something, Loki lost whatever patience he had with him and strode forward; grabbing him by the bicep and tugging him along, "Wait! The girl - we can't leave her here, she'll - " 

"She is dead already, Stark. And unless you want the same for you, I suggest you - " Stark dug his feet into the ground, hauling himself back and when Loki pulled harder, he swung a fist around to hit him. The blow was nothing, but it was Stark's struggling that caused the final stir of anger in him, "If you wish to die Stark, then say it now and I'll gladly kill you. But listen now, because I will not let any of those Giants find you here, so if it _is_ life that you seek, then _move_. Now." 

Stark's stubborn expression didn't change, "Not without her," It then morphed into disbelief, merged with a little confusion, "Why do you even care, anyway," Loki grit his teeth and used his grip on him to pull Stark closer, leaning into his face. 

"Do you have any idea how valuable an ally to the King can be," From the look on his face, no. Stark was clearly out of his depth here, "Valuable enough that if they started this attack with the sole purpose of capturing you, that will mean that they will not _stop_ until they have." 

Stark stared at him, "Me? What - why would they want - ?" The disbelief on Stark left until all that was there was his confusion," What, because I _know_ Thor?" 

Fire illuminated the tent for a second and they both looked up. Time was running out. 

"Whatever the reason, it will not be good," Loki warned him darkly, "Whatever the Jotun wish for only reigns hell for everyone and believe me, even if it were to finally rid me of you, I intend to make it very hard for them to get what they want." And then, with Stark now stunned into silence and perhaps even submission, Loki bent at the waist, digging his shoulder into Stark's chest and lifting him up and over his shoulder; holding onto his legs when they began to kick out at him in protest. 

"Look I'll go with you, okay, I'll follow until we figure out what's going on here but if you leave that girl behind here I swear to God I'll - " Oh for Hel's sake. 

Loki muttered an insult under his breath in pure irritation and bent again, wincing when he aggravated his wounds even more and with the arm that wasn't under Stark, he lifted the girl up as well; holding her limp in the crook of his arm as best he could. And still, Stark complained, "You can't carry us _both_ , you idiot, just - " 

With a growl of frustration, Loki dropped Stark onto his back, prodding him with his foot when he didn't immediately get up and then gesturing that he run in front. Stark scrambled to his feet, glaring at him over his shoulder before kicking the overturned table away and ripping the back of the tent out of the way to duck out of it. 

The forest was completely lit up now. Fire crackled everywhere, lighting other tents and burning the branches off until they fell around them. 

Stark let out a shout of warning, shielding himself from the fire and running ahead of Loki. Loki, who was held back by his still weak-state, his new aches from the Giants and the unconscious girl slung over his shoulder. 

He kept a pace at least, not far behind Stark and there were barely any Giants around here but still he could feel his legs beginning to give way. There would be more Giants in the forest, he knew that, but there would be nowhere the hide in the camp either and their choices were running thin. 

He gave a start when his arm was grabbed but followed Stark's pull when he realized that it was him. They were still running toward the forest, but to the left now, away from the fire and the destruction. 

"The well," Stark explained, "The pulley beside it can carry us down there and then back up when they've gone. No one'll look down there." Never try to predict things like that, Stark. 

Loki groaned when his foot scraped over something sharp and when he slumped, he slumped against stone. Stark left him there, looking lost for a moment, before grabbing Loki's dagger out of his belt and running off to grab the rope from the well. 

The girl rolled off of him, her hair pressed flat against her skin from her own and Loki's perspiration. He reached out toward her, to check her heart, to feel for her breath but - 

There was a thud from his left. Out here, the screams and sounds of battle were like the noise of animals in the night; howls in the distance while you slept on. They were loud, still very very loud, but whatever was so near by was louder. 

Loki leant forward, his fingers wrapping around the nearest stick as he'd no sword now. No weapon at all. He shifted, readying himself, coiling his legs to - 

Something grabbed his hand and he snapped his head down to stare at it. Fingers dug into his wrist as he stared. 

The other hand was white, glowing in the light from the moon and covered with filth. Ingriede stared up at him. 

"No ... " There was something in her throat, something choking her, sealing the breath from her. She sounded wet. Wet from blood, from soaked mud and the tears that were springing into her eyes, "Don't let it - please, don't let it take me ..." 

Loki stared down at her, suddenly unable to move. Her lips had turned blue, thin tendrils of black curling through the whites of her eyes until they were clouded over. He felt cold. Tar was spilling from her mouth. 

" _No_ ..." She moaned, clinging to him and Loki tried to cling back but she shook, her entire body shaking and spasming. She was choking. "Please, no - " 

Tar fell out onto Loki's hands, sticking him to her and he pulled away, his heart pounding. Her eyes were completely black now, her skin too white to be natural. Her hands were reaching for him, curled and twisted, clawed with something that wasn't her. "Please ... please don't let it ... " 

Loki lunged forward, cupping her face with his hands, "Ingriede?" That was her name, wasn't it? "Ingriede, listen to me, listen - " She shook again, her cries becoming gargles as the tar frothed over her chin, "Stay still. Don't - " 

" _Please_!" She was begging. She was begging him to help but - but help with what? What _was_ this? What was even happening to her? He'd never seen anything like this, he'd never - 

Her hands dug into his clothes, tugging on them, pulling him forward as she still shook and twitched over the ground. Her lips were cold, the tar wet by his ear and she whispered against him, "It's - it's ... _here_." 

"What?" Loki untangled himself from her, catching her when she fell, "What is? What's here?" He struggled to remember her name again but it fell from his lips when she clawed at him one more time, "Ingriede, listen to me. You must tell me what is it. I need to know, you must - " She thrashed over the ground and Loki gripped her tight, " _Tell_ me what it is that you see - " She screamed. 

Long, loud and so full of fear that the blood in Loki's arms grew cold enough to raise the hairs there. 

He reared back, jerking his head around to see what it was that was there but the forest was as dark in that area as it had been before. The glow of fire too far from here now. She gurgled again, spluttering behind him but when Loki slowly turned back to her, there was nothing there.

"I - " 

Ingriede lay on her side, her eyes and mouth open but there was no black, no tar, no mud. And when Loki brushed a finger over her parted lips, no breath either. 

He panted, pushing himself from her with his throat tight and thrumming with a pulse that was beating too fast. She didn't move still, didn't wake. 

_Frigga. Your realm is tainted._

The rustling of leaves signified Stark's arrival back and when he looked up, something must have shown on Loki's face because Stark didn't say a word to him and only dropped the rope to scramble forward; checking the girl over obsessively before sitting back in both shock and defeat when he realized that she was dead. 

Loki stood, stepping back from them both and turning toward the forest. Toward the area that she'd been staring at with so much fear. 

Nothing moved in that area as he watched. No bird was sleeping, no small creature scurrying, no insects or plants moving in a wind that just didn't seem to be present there as it was everywhere else. It was darker there, harder to see clearly, harder to decipher what was shadow and what was - 

A hand fell on his shoulder, jolting him, but Stark slipped it off before he could attack out of instinct. Turning back, he looked down at the girl or - corpse, as he supposed he should be thinking of her now. 

Belatedly, he wondered why her death was striking such a heaviness in him but perhaps it was just the nature of her death. The way that she had slowly suffocated from something that Loki had never even encountered before - and without trying to think too highly of himself, he knew that finding something he'd never fought before was next to impossible - and how she had screamed her fear when there had been nothing there that he could see. 

If this had been the venom of whatever had bitten her acting, and she had been hallucinating, then why had Loki been able to see those tendrils wrapping around her eyes? Or the _tar_ \- 

"I suppose we should bury her," He murmured, and though he strode toward her and away from Stark, he didn't miss the look of surprise that flashed over the man's face. And for some reason, it irked him, "Do you wish to _not_ bury her?" 

Stark blinked, "Huh? I - no, I wasn't thinking about that, I was - " 

"Thinking that I would want to leave her there? For the animals to feast on?" 

" Oh, Jesus," Stark groaned, looking away with a jerk, "Would it kill you to just shut up and let someone explain for once?" Loki regarded him coolly. 

"Truthfully? I'd like to think so." He didn't receive any other answer other than a muttered ' _asshole_ ' and then Stark was tending to the girl, straightening her dress, covering her exposed flesh and closing her eyes. 

Loki stepped forward to lift her hair from the mud and this time responded to the surprise he saw with a, "Despite what many of you all seem to think, Stark, I do have a heart," He lifted the girl into his arms, heading off into the direction Stark had run off into, "I simply choose to use it sparingly." 

Stark stood with him, dusting the mud from his already torn trousers, "Save yourself from getting hurt, kinda method?" Loki paused. 

"No," He said slowly, wondering where Stark had gotten that idea from, "More saving myself the trouble of others slowing me down, really." From behind him, he heard Stark's footsteps slow. 

"'Kay," Was the sarcastic reply, given to him five minutes later, "Really should've known, huh." 

Placing the girl - _corpse_ \- down by the wall of the well, Loki ignored that and turned to get the rope that Stark had grabbed before. Needlessly, really, for Loki had only needed rest not help, but they had it now and it could actually be put to use so no need to verbally complain. 

He winced when the muscles in his stomach pulled, as he wrapped the rope around one wrist and the bones in his back cracked just as the tree behind him did. Stark's stagger backward was one of the only warnings he got before Loki clenched a hand over the tail of the rope, swinging it around to whip into the eye of the Giant that had found them. 

"Move!" He shouted over his shoulder at Stark, who didn't hesitate, grabbing the girl by the torso and running into the forest. Loki leapt back when the Giant swung for him, roaring at the sting in it's eye. A second swing and it caught Loki with just the tip of it's thumb, knocking him off of his feet for a second before he was up and jumping onto the Well's wall. 

Kicking off it, he locked his knees around the Giant's head, ignoring the bite of the chill and ignoring how it didn't affect him as it would an Aesir. Digging it's clawed nails into his thighs, Loki was flung off of it but on the way down he wrapped a hand around the hilt of it's sword, twisting it around until the point could be thrust into it's knee. 

It fell without a sound but snarled when Loki stepped onto it's chest, pinning it with the sword at it's throat, "Speak." It stared up at him, waiting for the blow that would kill it. Loki pressed the sword down harder, " _Speak_. Why do you wish to have the mortal?" 

"Why do you protect him?" The Giant countered and Loki bared his teeth, narrowing his eyes. 

"I protect all that a Giant is after." He answered, though that wasn't necessarily true. Once, he would have perhaps helped the Giant's in finding what they needed, especially if it were going to hurt Thor but now his hatred for them was all that fueled him to fight them. Even when - the pain in his stomach was intensifying and he hid a wince - even when he knew there was every chance he could lose, "Being ally to Thor does not warrant an entire band of you all to search for him." 

The Giant laughed, low, raspy and bubbling with saliva that was clogging it's throat from the odd angle, "Being ally for Thor is not all that the mortal has for us." Loki frowned. What? What else was there that they'd want from Stark? 

"What does he have that you need?" He demanded, leaning closer, "What would you want? His mind, his weapons?" He was running out of things Stark could offer that anyone would see value in, "The vulnerability of being mortal, perhaps?" 

The Giant only laughed again, looking Loki in the eye. Red to Green and the gaze pinned Loki more than his sword pinned the Jotun, "As always trickster," It's voice rumbled through to him and his eyelids twitched as he looked down at him, "You never seek to see more than you know." 

Ignoring the claim to know more about him that he did, Loki snarled at it, "That's mainly because I do know all that there is _to_ know in this universe," Loki answered, lifting the sword to slice through the Giant's throat. But. He apparently must have waited too long because the Giant's fist drove into his chest before he'd the chance to. 

Flying backward, the sword dropped out of his hand and he didn't see it again until it was pointed at him instead. Flat on his back it was all he could do to just look up and see the Giant lay down it's club, raise it's sword to kill him. 

Breathing slowly through his nose, Loki roamed his eyes around to seek out anything he could use. The rope was too far to reach, the sticks too thin, and the Giant was raising it's hand now to - 

Blood suddenly covered Loki's face. Speckling his neck and chest also and he blinked, staring up at the club that had been slammed into the back of the Giant's head. He just managed to roll out of the way in time to avoid being crushed by it's falling body, wiping at the blood in shock. 

The club remained stuck to it's head and as it lay there, frosted over with ice and cooled, darkened blood.

Loki panted on the ground, letting out the breath that he'd held in before and turning his head slowly to locate whatever had attacked his own attacker; hoping against hope that he'd not have to fight anyone just yet. 

Stark was standing a little off to his left, shaking out his arm rapidly and hissing out behind his teeth. Looking at Loki, he grimaced and breathed out, "Heavier than it - looks." Had his chest not been burning with pain, Loki might have laughed at him. Overcome by a club. It was humorous, in a way. 

Stark rubbed at his arm still and leapt over the Giant's neck, so tiny in comparison to it that he looked almost like a child and not a man. But. When he stood over Loki, holding a hand out to help and waiting to see Loki's reaction to it, his heart could easily be seen to be decidedly mature. 

Loki took the hand, pushing himself up and kicking the Giant's hand out of his way as he walked off, "Where is the body?" 

Stark ran to catch up, "Buried. There were craters from the fire so I - "

"Spare me the details Stark." Loki muttered back to him, his heart still pounding from the attack and, mostly, from his close proximity with death-by-Giant, "And thank you." He then added, not looking around to see whatever expression Stark had on his face, "For what you did." 

"For saving your life, you mean." Remarkably, the man wasn't mocking and was only asking, but still Loki chose not to answer and to simply continue to walk, "Speaking of sparing details, what does doing that have for you? I mean, do you enjoy keeping secrets, or something?" 

Loki stopped in his tracks. What secrets? "What are you asking me here, Stark?" 

"I'm not asking you anything, I'm just saying that I'm getting sick of asking about _everything_ ," Loki frowned, turning to face him but Stark babbled over his confusion anyway, "If it's going to affect me in one way or another, then why not tell me? Why keep it to yourself, it doesn't make sense to! I mean, for one, I could even help you with the - " 

"What, Stark, do you believe I am keeping from you?" Loki asked him coolly, "And. After we have established that, we'll come to why you seem to believe that I answer to you." 

"You want me to list it out, or what?" 

"Oh please. Do." 

Stark raised an eyebrow at him but lifted a hand, counting off from his fingers, "Okay, first of all, what in the _flying hell_ is even going on around here? There's shaking and running and murdering and Giants and - Look. When I asked Thor if the realms were dangerous, he never told me about any of this so I'm assuming that it's all relatively new, okay? So. My questions are: What's new and _why_ aren't you panicking about it?" Loki blinked slowly at him, "Okay. Good answer. Question two: Why are these guys after me? What is they want and why are you helping me against them when you've made it pretty clear how much you hate my guts?" 

"If you so badly wish to know what they want, you'll have to ask one of them for I've no idea," Loki said, smiling sardonically at him, "I am not helping _you_ either, I am only helping myself in that I will have no part in what the Jotun want. And if it is you, then I will keep you as far from them as I can and then abandon you there when I've the chance." Stark lowered his hand, looking at him with narrowed eyes, "With your first question, you have already asked me before and you will have the same answer now as you did then, for nothing has changed. I. Do not. Know." 

"Question three," Stark said, ignoring Loki's answers but speaking softer now, quieter, "You could have fried that Giant with a well-aimed fireball thing but you didn't. And I know you can so don't say the opposite, I've seen you explode glass before remember so - " 

"You will not ask anything about my magic, Stark," Loki interrupted him, the smile falling from his face and he turned away, "And if you still choose to, know that I'll not answer." 

Stark didn't seem the least bit disappointed, "Fine. But what about questions about Asgard?" He then called after him, jumping over branches to catch up, "Nothing to do with your magic but I just want to know if there's another way back to Asgard," Loki rolled his eyes, picking up the pace, "Or even Midgard." But apparently Stark can keep up perfectly, "I really need to get home, okay, and - _ah_!" Loki spun back around at the scream. 

At first he couldn't see anything but taking a step forward he could see Stark on the ground with a rope around his neck. His hands were scrabbling at his throat, choking around the noose there and the Giant holding the other end stepped out from the trees; dragging Stark toward it. 

Loki braced, regretting immediately his thoughtlessness before for not taking the other Giant's sword but he was ignored completely anyway. Stark was lifted by his leg and simply - casually, even - thrown into the trees when the rope was yanked off of him. Another scream and pounding footsteps indicated what he'd been caught by and any thing else was muffled afterward. 

Loki sighed at having lost Stark already but he'd not give up without at least - "I've no fight with you trickster." He stopped, looking back at the Giant still standing there. With it's back to him. 

"You've no fight with me." Loki repeated, dripping his voice with as much disbelief as he could. 

"Yes." The Giant murmured, undeterred, "Others despise your killing of Laufey but I, commemorate it." Loki didn't say anything. His hands fell from their raised position, "Leave the mortal. Leave it and I will not have to kill you." 

_Have to_.

Loki stared at it. He didn't move, only listened. To the footsteps in the trees signifying the retreat of the Giants, to the orders he could hear being given, to the muffled curses of Stark as they carried him off. They had what they wanted. He didn't need to interfere. 

And if. If what they did affected others then, then he could return later. When healed. 

Loki almost left then, just as the Giant before him had told him to, but he'd barely had the thought formed in my head before four other sets of footsteps behind him told him that that would be a very bad idea. He closed his eyes for a second, smiling to himself and then addressing the first Giant. "I believe that your friends will have a very different idea about that." He said instead. 

He received no answer at first, other than more footsteps and, though he lashed out when a noose was thrown around his neck as well, he was already exhausted. Obviously so. 

And it was inevitable really. That a particularly hard blow would eventually send him into unconsciousness. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I really hate about writing sometimes is that you can have a scene in your head but when you finally write it, you can't describe it enough to make it how you wanted it to be. If only there was a way to visually tell my tale ... hm.


	19. If I had an enemy, I'd want him to be you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Thou art a villain._
> 
>  
> 
> \--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! really! Real life has been so shitty lately! D: Still. I hope you all enjoy!!

.

Loki came to slowly. 

He pulled himself out of darkness, blearily awoke to the feel of lips pressed desperately hard to his. 

And - as bizarre as that feeling should have really been for him, it wasn't exactly enough to spur him into pushing whoever it was away; he hadn't really the energy after everything that had happened so recently, so fast, to even try and move so fast. 

The two fists, however, that were slammed down over his chest next, they - well. _They_. Gained a reaction.

The ground whirled dizzyingly when he bolted upright at the blow, his head knocking hard against Stark's and making him fall backward himself, hushing his own shout of pain quickly. Loki rubbed at his forehead with a finger, scowling and glaring down at the mortal, about to open his mouth to snarl something in annoyance when - 

Stark surged up before he could say anything, and pressed a hand to his mouth, hissing at him as silently as he was able to, "Don't talk, _don't_ talk." Loki blinked, jerking back until the hands fell from his face, "They're asleep right now, and trust me, okay, you _really_ don't want them awake." Loki swallowed past his dry throat, sitting up properly and irritably wiping at his mouth pointedly. At that, Stark actually looked a little put off, "I - You didn't look like you were breathing, so I - " He stopped, clearly embarrassed, "Look, be grateful." He then spat defensively, wincing at a low growl from one of the Jotun, and that was when Loki realized just how close to them they were. It was night, had been for a while by the looks of things, and he was lying at the edge of a camp made by the Jotun, "What, you never heard of the 'kiss of life', or something?" Loki didn't respond at all to Stark's jeer, choosing to shift away instead and to look over the sleeping Jotun. Assessing. 

What had happened last, he - his hand came up to rub at the small bump just above the start of his neck. A bump created by the blow of a Jotun's club. 

"How long have I slept?" He asked, quietening his voice, much like Stark was doing, "Since they found us, how long?" 

"Since they knocked you out cold and dragged you off, you mean," Stark 'corrected', "Since I've had to try and keep you alive every single time we stopped, to save you from leaving me to manage with them all _alone_? Since then?" Loki looked at him, unimpressed, wondering why he sounded so strained and if anything else had happened to him during this. 

They had, after all, been after _him_ all this time, and not vise-versa. 

"Since then, Stark, yes." He answered, wearily. 

Stark's answering smile, then, was cold, "Five days." 

Five - Loki grit his teeth, cursing in his head and pinching his chin under a hand. Five days was too long, far too long, he hadn't thought that it would be - he couldn't have been that injured, could he? Damn it all. They could be _anywhere_ by now. He could have missed things, _important_ things. "Where are we now, then?" He asked then, breathing in slowly in an effort to calm himself, "You have been awake all this time, haven't you. Do you know?" 

Stark hunched over on himself, rubbing an arm from the chill of the night and shrugging, "Yeah, I've been awake, but - well, you know this place better than I do, so you tell me. It all just looks like forest to me, to be honest." 

Loki sighed, stretching a long-since-unused leg to crack the bone aching in it, "Of course. Why _would_ you know, when you've been nothing but unknowledgeable in almost everything that I've asked of you since we've met here." Stark opened his mouth with a glare but Loki spoke over him, "Do you at least have an estimate as to how far we've traveled? From the camp, that is." He tried to keep himself calm, keep himself patient. There was no need to incite an argument about Stark's lack of knowledge - that one comment born from panic, excepting - not now, not when both their lives could so easily be in danger in this situation. And anyway, Stark had said that he had been keeping Loki alive for all these days; stopping his still-healing body from succumbing to the cold of the nights and from lack of hydration or sustenance, likely. 

Therefore - he shut his eyes for a moment in resignation, as - once again, Loki owed the man his life. 

And this time, he'll try to be grateful for it. For as long as he can bring himself to be, at least. 

Stark scoffed, "Oh, yeah, pretty far. They took us from just around the border of the camp at day one, and since then we've not exactly stopped walking." We. They've made Stark walk at their pace? "So, no, I don't know where we are right now, but I _do_ know that there is no way that we can find that camp again. Not with how fast and far these guys can go in just a few hours, let alone days," He paused, biting his lip, "That is, if the camp's not a pile of ash right now, anyway." 

Hm. Other than exhaustion then, there seemed to be a faint sense of grief in Stark's words as well. Faint, but it was there for Loki to notice. 

"The children," Loki asked, before even thinking he'll open his mouth yet, "They did not survive the attack, did they." 

Stark shrugged again, looking down. He didn't answer, not for a while. 

Loki looked around while Stark hugged himself from the cold, peering through the dark at the bodies of the sprawled Jotun, moving only as they shifted in their sleep. Loki and Stark were set up against the wall of a cliff, with nowhere to go and nowhere to run - not without getting caught. 

"No." Stark finally answered, after a few minutes, "They didn't survive." He sighed, a little shakily even, and Loki leant forward; intrigued now, by this show of vulnerability when Stark has tried to be anything but, all this time, "The ones that - did. The ones who actually managed to get out of there, the - the _Jotun_ ," The word rolled off of his tongue strangely, showing it's unfamiliarity, "Made sure that they didn't survive." His voice gradually whittled down to something a little smaller, quieter, and he laughed to himself - bitterly. Nothing like the laughs Loki had heard him have when the children had clambered over him. He narrowed his eyes, ignoring the heaviness of his chest - ~~heart~~ , "Do you know?" Stark looked up, meeting Loki's eyes, "Do you know - how much blood a five year old girl can bleed? When her - " He cleared his throat, never looking away from Loki, as though proving something by continuing to speak of something that was clearly upsetting him, "When her _head's_ been stamped on?" Loki shut his eyes, " ... 'Cause I didn't." 

A moment of silence passed between them and the only sound actually heard for a while were the snores of the Jotun sleeping only a few, mere paces from them. 

Loki shifted, freezing when his ankle rattled and glancing down to see a chain clasped over it. Tight. From how bitter the cold was during the night, he hadn't even noticed it at first. Stark saw him looking and grimaced a little, "Sorry. That's, uh, kinda my fault." Loki looked at him, "I - tried to escape before - when we stopped for a bit. But, they've always got this huge watchman guy up every night. Couldn't get past him in time. Not with you slumped over me, unconscious, anyway." Loki's throat compressed and he cleared his own throat now, if a little awkwardly; looking away. Stark raised his own ankle when he spoke again, showing a similar chain over his own foot, "And they didn't really want to take any chances at night after that." 

"Is it worth it, then, or not?" Loki asked, with a snort, "Attempting to escape." It was obvious what he was really asking, and Stark's silence was answer enough. As was the reddened symbol that had so clearly been burnt into the skin just above the chain on his foot. A punishment. Loki sighed, rubbing his aching head and, again, sitting up properly when he began to slide down in the mud. Stark didn't say anything for a while yet again, and Loki grit his teeth against the silence, breaking it again when he began to grow rigid due to it - his senses already too alert to anything around them, and the sleeping Jotun were the only other beings here - making him tense when they were all he could hear, "Well, what do they want with you, then?" 

Stark let out a light groan, running a hand through his hair and tilting it back, "Jesus, you're full of questions aren't you. You'd maybe think that almost dying would make you want to sleep or something, not jump right into action." 

Loki scoffed at him, letting Stark shift closer for warmth without complaint, "I've missed five days already, Stark, and I did ' _sleep_ ' through all of them. And, more to the point, almost dying has never really done much for me, than to simply highlight my priorities. Therefore. Tell me." He lowered his voice until it was more of an insulting/patronizing tone, "What do they want with you?" 

"You think I know?" Stark asked, a little angrily now - losing his patience with Loki already maybe? - or perhaps due to Loki's own tone, "You think that I haven't asked them yet myself, haven't demanded that they tell me what they want with me? Five days stuck with them and with you fucking unconscious, and you think that, what, that I've just kept my mouth shut all that time?" 

Loki smiled. "Oh, of course not. For as far as I know, it's almost impossible to quieten you." 

Stark ignored him, only giving him a sharp look in reply, before answering Loki's question instead, "Yeah, well they won't say to me what they want, okay. Big surprise." He rolled his eyes, "But they did say, that they - they're dragging me to somewhere else first, apparently, because I need to see their - their _leader_ , or whatever." Loki frowned, listening properly now, "Look, I don't know, okay, and I really don't fucking care." Stark sucked in a breath, glancing to the side to make sure that none of the Jotun had awoken at his brief outburst, "And I'm not planning on staying here to find out what it is, either. Not after what I've seen at what they can do. So, now that you're finally awake, _thanks to me_ , are you going to help me get out of here or not?" 

Loki ignored his last request, leaning forward with a frown, "Leader? You - They've a leader, you said? Not 'King'?" 

"No." Curt. Again. "They said 'Leader', and _yes_ , before you ask I heard them right." 

"Oh, stop inciting an argument," Loki rolled his eyes, scowling at Stark's tone, before switching back to his question before Stark could respond, "Jotun would never call a King or Prince their 'leader', it would be seen as something almost disrespectful with them, whether it's only another word for it or not. So let me ask again, are you sure ... that that is what they said?" 

Stark leant closer, bringing his face only a fingers-breadth away from Loki's and glaring into his eyes, " _Yes_. I'm. Sure." 

Loki pushed Stark away with a grip on his shoulders, frowning over this small but new bit of information. Leader. Not King. Hm. 

Had Jotenheimr not given the throne to the next in line, then? The next other than Loki, that is, or had they left the throne bare and named another leader in it's place, or had their terms for respect simply been altered since Loki had last been there? Well. Whatever it was, the Jotun still hadn't revealed what it was they wanted and have apparently preferred for their new 'leader' to do the explaining instead. 

Or killing. Whatever it was they wanted with Stark. 

But for the both of them, it would most definitely not be good, and five days has already been more than enough time for them to get too close to their so-called leader and further from help.

However. If they were to leave now, then there would be no way for them to try to do that now. Not when pressed against the wall here, and not with the Jotun asleep. It would be too obvious, too pain-inflicting for them to be discovered leaving, and Stark had said that they had a watch-man, making sure that they stayed put, somewhere around here. 

"We cannot leave," He hissed to Stark, his eyes flicking over the nearest Jotun and assessing how easy it would be to unsheathe his sword, or club. The conclusion that he came to, inevitably, only led to his death. Here, after all, in this situation, _he_ was the dispensable one and Stark was who they needed. He was only alive now because of Stark as well, and without his magic, chained and injured, he'd never really felt so helpless or so in debt. He couldn't risk himself again, not now, "Not yet." 

Stark nodded, shivering only slightly at the wind that slowly picked up around them. Dawn was on it's way. "I kinda gathered that, yeah. We need a plan." 

"Yes. We do." Loki agreed, gritting his teeth when Stark's began to chatter, and jerking the man closer to give him the warmth he so clearly needed, "But we'll not think of one now." 

Stark had stiffened against him at the pull, but now he raised an eyebrow, tilting his head up to look at him, "We won't?" 

"Any of them could be listening, could be pretending to sleep. So no, not now." He kicked at the ground, misplacing rocks and so on until here was room for them to lie comfortably - or, as comfortably as they could right now, "We should sleep, instead. If they've made you walk all this time, then we'll need our energy." 

"You ever tried to sleep on open ground?" Stark muttered dryly, pulling away from him an inch or two, and lying over the dry mud; shutting his eyes and shivering yet again. 

Loki lay beside him, staring up at the sky for a while before, slowly, murmuring, "How many are there? The Jotun." 

Stark hummed, his arms arms wrapped around himself tight, "Around 200. Not sure though. I mean, not to be racist, but some of them do kinda look the same, so I might have miscounted." 

Loki waited until he could hear Stark's breathing slow beside him before he addressed that thought. 

Two hundred. Two _hundred_ Jotun. 

He shut his eyes. Two hundred Jotun in Vanaheim, two hundred to capture only a _single_ mortal, two hundred that they had to now try to escape from. 

How have they missed this? How has this all happened? Has Asgard and his brother simply been sleeping for all of these years or have the past few weeks just - coincidentally, suddenly - been fruitful for all those that name themselves their enemy? 

Well. He wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, then, it seemed. Not when his brain was now so alert with all these thoughts. 

.

****** 

.

Dawn came only a few hours later and left Loki feeling significantly exhausted still. Stark had awoken pressed against him only a few minutes before him and had only bothered to move when it had grown too uncomfortable to continue to lay on the ground. He'd then explained that the Jotun had usually dumped Loki on a horse for most the journey here, as he'd been unconscious for the best part of it, and that they'd only stop at least three times a day - and not for long either - which was where Tony had tended to Loki's wounds and dehydration. 

He tried not to roll his eyes at the look of surprise on Stark's face when he had thanked him for it all. 

However. Before Loki could question over whether or not he should pretend to be still so injured and asleep, a Jotun made it's way over to them, stepping over the bodies of it's sleeping kin and making the ground shake with every step until it reached them. 

Stark stiffened, glaring up at it and pulling his teeth back in a snarl, and it was only when it's bulking shadow completely covered them both, did Loki close his eyes and slump forward as much as he could. 

The Jotun didn't speak for a while or, well, not loud enough so that Loki could hear really, and at a bitten-off yelp from Stark, he had to open his eyes again - barely enough to see properly and barely enough to be noticeable - just to satisfy his curiosity. Stark was holding his cheek but still glaring for all he was worth. The Jotun didn't seem impressed by it, but they all must have become used to Stark's defiance by the looks of things as, other than the obvious blow that had been given to his face, Stark simply remained unpunished for it. 

Loki continued to watch as words were exchanged, straining to listen though he wasn't even that far, but the Jotun was murmuring not talking and it was only Stark's bark of, "You don't really want me to threaten to kill myself again, do you. The panic you made last time was a little funny yeah, but I can go serious if you keep on threatening him _and_ me.", that he could hear. 

'Him'. Loki. 

His chest tightened as he comprehended the words and he shut his eyes again, ignoring the warmth behind them and ignoring how he felt about whatever meaning Stark's threat brought for him. 

When he opened his eyes again, he next saw Stark's arms being yanked forwards into the loop of a rope, which was then bound and tugged on. He was dragged to his feet and taken away - out of Loki's limited sight. 

And Loki was left alone. Supposedly unconscious. 

It - How many times had this happened in these five days, without his knowledge of it or Stark's? Anything could have happened to him, this was ridiculous. 

Minutes passed and he truly considered simply getting up and leaving. None of them would likely notice, not when he could see shadows of them all preparing to walk on from this place, could see them all being so busy with themselves. He was 'unconscious' after all, no one would guess that he could move away from here himself. 

But then. What of Stark? It wasn't particularly unwarranted, feeling guilty about leaving him here, and it wasn't any sort of weakness either. The man, foolish he may be, has done nothing but help Loki since this had all happened to them both and in return Loki has simply thrown him into situation after situation; getting him bruised, attacked and humiliated constantly. 

And were the tables turned ... 

Were the tables _turned_? The tables would never be turned, not with them, not like this. 

Stark was a mortal man, a man with a heart and with morals and with enough kindness in him to want to help even an enemy. Loki. Loki was the opposite, and perhaps that was even something rather sad. That despite all of this, despite all that he'd been through, he couldn't find it in himself to try to help another who's done nothing directly to him other than what he'd needed to - back on Midgard, during the battle. 

Fighting for his world was something admirable and since then - since then - Stark's been both a thorn and a savior to him. 

What would - Laufey would kill him, regardless. Laufey would not even _be_ in this situation at all, anyway. He, likely, would just sit upon his throne, smirking that same smirk that he'd given Loki when promised the casket, and would watch all of this destruction take place, would watch Stark squirm and cry and _die_ at his feet; he wouldn't lie here and ponder over allowing himself to be hurt if only to try to help a mortal. 

But what of Odin? Odin would spare Stark, probably, as the merciful leader he so pretended to be. Though it would, of course, be conditional mercy, as always. Stark would have to owe him something, some token, some precious thing. An element of his dignity perhaps? 

And Thor? Thor would - no. Stop it. 

Loki was neither of them, and he'll not pretend to be. What he himself would do in this situation, was what he should be thinking, and that, right now, was to remain here. It was, after all, logical. He'd nowhere else to go yet, he needed more answers, the Jotun would kill him if he tried to escape alone, and Stark was wanted for some reason or another that Loki has sworn to put a stop to. Even if he'd no idea himself of what it is that Stark can provide for them, he'll not abandon the man after everything the both of them have been through, and - shutting his eyes, he recalled a scream and a fading light, Stark's fearful eyes as he realized that he was dying back in the tent, and his own guilt at hurting him that way - it was a shame that it has taken this long for him to think that way. 

More minutes passed and Loki was still left to lie there. He heard commands being barked, the rattle of wagon wheels hitting rock as they rolled along, and the sound of Stark's voice over the noise of the Jotun preparing to leave; listing reasons in that insolent tone of his about why they should release him immediately. 

It was over fifteen minutes later when he finally felt himself being lifted and dumped over the saddle of a horse, and it was only the hands of someone seated behind him that kept him from falling - those hands were rather too small for a Giant, so it was either a slave or Stark. 

"Got any plans, yet, then?" So Stark then. And no, no he hadn't got any ideas as of yet and he would really rather be upright right now, hating how the world lurched around him as the horse ploughed on - but if he moved now then he'd no guarantee of living after being caught conscious. 

He would simply have to continue to pretend. 

Unfortunately. Fate had other plans. 

.

**** 

.

They'd barely walked for long - Stark keeping a hold on Loki with one hand and struggling against the rope around his waist with the other, dodging a punishing blow from one of the Jotun so effectively that Loki had to fight against smiling in admiration - when they all drive to a halt. He stiffened when their horse came to a stop as well and Stark's hand tightened over his shirt. 

"Vanir," He murmured to Loki, his voice cold, strained, "They've probably found some Vanir survivors, it's the only reason they ever stop." He was shifting when he spoke, wriggling against the rope on his waist, tensing and bracing himself to - 

"Don't you dare." Loki growled to him, opening his eyes to glare at him, warning him with his eyes of the consequences that would strike down on him if he tried to stop whatever it was that was happening. Stark opened his mouth to argue before flinching at a scream from the trees ahead and snapping his head toward it. Loki sighed, trying to muster up some part in himself that could feed some comfort to the man - to stop him from doing anything too suicidal, but before he could even _think_ of something to say, the collar of his shirt was grabbed and he was literally lifted off of the horse in a single heave. 

Damn. 

"So the trickster lives," He coughed at the cold washing over his face, blinking at the fact of the Jotun that had captured him. Stark gazed up at them both from the horse, one of his hands still curled in Loki's shirt. 

Two more Jotun joined the one holding onto Loki, their faces leering and questioning and there - it was over. He was caught, he would be killed, or even, perhaps, reduced to nothing more than a slave. So why not, if he was going down, go down fighting? 

It was when one of them poked at his bruised stomach hard, that Loki flew into action. He curled his legs up in a fluid motion, both feet colliding with the Jotun's nose. He didn't hear a crack, but it worked anyhow and he was released. The other two made a grab for him, but he didn't stop to fight, didn't stop to even grab a sword - he'd not survive if he stayed - not when they could all turn and attack him as one. 

Two hundred, he remembered from last night. 

He'd be dead in a minute. 

Unsheathing a dagger from a wagon beside him, he flung it at Stark, slicing it through the rope and grabbing the man's hand, hauling him unceremoniously off of the horse and just - simply, stupidly - running away. 

" _This_ is your plan?!" Stark screamed in his ear, ducking at the spear thrown over their heads, struggling to catch up. Loki tightened his grip over his hand, snarling his answer over his shoulder at him, "Do you have anything better in mind?" 

"Oh my god," Stark stared over his own shoulder, "I'm going to die. I'm going to die today, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, and I'm going to die _holding your fucking **hand**_!"

Loki sighed, lunging over two rocks in their way, wincing at the roar of the Jotun behind them. They'd catch up - they would. There was no way that the two of them could out run them, not as they were, not when they were just so small and slow when compared. 

Another spear was thrown and this one landed stuck in the ground before Loki, making him skid to a halt to stop himself from running into it, and that one moment was enough for three of the Jotun sent to recapture them, to reach them. 

He'd no sword, no weapon, no magic. What could he - ah. 

"What do we do?" Stark backed into him, his hand softer than Loki would have expected, and he used his grip on it to twist the man around, "You stay still." He advised and answered, curling an arm under the man's neck and backing them against a tree; choking him, "Stark - the mortal = is essential to whatever it is you want, yes?" He ignored the elbow that was rammed into his ribs, though he loosened his hold to at least let Stark know that he'd no intentions of killing him right now, "You've need of him? Alive, preferably, I take it?" 

The Jotun didn't move. Didn't even threaten or try to take Stark by force, and now - wasn't that interesting. 

He should run, he should let them believe that he would kill Stark to stop them from getting him, but now ... after that, he couldn't resist, "Why? What can he provide that's so important to you all?" 

Stark squirmed against him, " _Loki_ \- "

"Why do you want him?" 

More Jotun began to catch up, but it was only a few that had chased them anyhow, and so it totaled to around a dozen. Still. It was more than enough to be able to take Loki down easily enough. 

The three Jotun closest exchanged a look, almost panicked when Loki made a show of jerking Stark, making him gag, " _Why_?" 

"Get off!" 

Bushes parted and another Jotun stepped forward, taking all of the attention, "He is the key." 

Loki turned his head toward it, blinking with a sharp pang, when he recognized him as the Jotun that had spoken to him before. Before he had been clobbered over the head and dragged away. 

"Key to - ah - key to what?" Stark gasped, elbowing Loki again and this time, he was released. Loki grit his teeth when his foot was stepped on, hard, but said nothing of it, "What am the key to, huh? What the hell do you fuckers even _want_ with me? I don't even live here, how can I be important?" 

The Jotun exchanged a look with each other, now looking decidedly uncomfortable for Giants that had been determined to hunt them down just now, and they all looked as one to the only one out of them that had spoken, "We do not know." 

Loki frowned, staring over at them all. They didn't know? Didn't know what: what they wanted with Stark, why he was important? What? 

"You don't know what?" Stark's fear of the Jotun had now taken a step back, it seemed, and his anger at the situation had risen instead as he clenched his fists and glared hard at the Jotun speaking, "You don't know, but you're still trying to get me? Does that make sense to you?" 

"We only know of one thing, mortal," The Jotun was growling now, it's patience being tried, "And that is that you are the key to ending all of this. That is all." 

Loki took a step forward himself now, tensing when the Jotun braced for a fight at the slightest movement from him, "Ending to what?" He asked slowly, his voice deep in his confusion. 

The Jotun's eyes met his and Loki's heart stuttered at the sight of something akin to fear in the red of them. 

"To the War." 

.


	20. Life is cold and the cold stings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __  
> **“If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?”**  
>   
> 
> \--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could apologize a thousand times and it wouldn't be enough for this chapter. I'm sorry, life had been hell and my motivation for this fic just vanished. I hope I haven't lost any of you that seemed to enjoy this <33
> 
> Ps: warning. Creepy old men.

* * *

_**~** _

__

The Jotun had clearly decided to take no more chances with their prisoners now and Loki’s chains were then attached to Stark’s as soon as the both of them were made to walk back to the others; alongside carts and Giants. The Vanir camp from before _had_ been ambushed and more prisoners had been captured to be kept to walk as well, but for what purpose — other than to just have more numbers — Loki didn’t know but he didn’t really focus on that either. For now, survival was the key.

Stark, since their aborted escape, had grown quieter whilst they walked. After the Jotun’s revelation over how ‘important’ that they seemed to believe he is, he hadn’t demanded anything else of them and had been rather passive when it had come to following orders and marching at their pace.

Thinking, possibly. Trying to work out just why they would need _him_ of all people. Loki couldn't see it either, really. Stark was arrogant, yes, clever and creative but these were not exactly qualities that would cause an _entire_ Jotun band to go after him. Something else was at play here so, like Stark, Loki started to think on it while he walked as well; avoiding any conflict easily, by simply ducking down his gaze whenever he felt that he should and swallowing back his pride with each step.

The Jotun made camp by the edge of a mountain this time and their new Vanir prisoners were made to prepare the sleeping arrangements and to adjust the chains on their own friends and family. Loki and Stark were completely ignored, save for the bread that was given to them to eat.

If they thought that being ignored, however, meant that it would be easier for them to escape then they were very mistaken. As soon as Loki so much as sat up a little straighter, one of the Jotun — that was only sat only a foot away — unsheathed it's dagger and glared at him. Well that was annoying. Seen as unimportant and now not even allowed to _move_ , what could he do?

He was beginning to hate his magic for abandoning him at such a time but thinking on that wasn't exactly useful either, so instead, he began to take in his surroundings and to assess what he could and couldn't use or understand.

There were a dozen other prisoners with them that Loki could see. Four women and seven men. And a boy, small and protected, pushed behind his mother's body whenever the Jotun's passed them. There were Jotun guards and mere Jotun soldiers and whatever they did or said was rather mild and not of any interest at all. Purposefully, probably, and watching them all eat their bigger meals only really made Loki hungry and nothing else.

Stark shifted beside him, flicking at his given piece of bread but not otherwise touching it. Judging from how he's held himself before, he was clearly dying to ask Loki something but was probably not sure of whether or not he should yet. Either he didn't want to Jotun to listen or he had too many questions to ask.

However. When, finally, the Jotun began to lay down for sleep, he turned to Loki and spoke up in a whisper, "What do they mean by key?" Loki lay back himself, stretching and looking up at the stars.

No escape tonight. They hadn't the means.

The hand that was chained to Stark clinked as he moved and pulled, until his fellow prisoner had no other choice but to lie down as well. "I believe a key opens doors." The look he received next told him that Stark was very obviously not in the mood. And neither was Loki really — especially not to test the boundaries of someone that he now had to rely on to stay alive. It was, after all, only Stark's words that have kept him so for this long. Sighing, he corrected himself in apology, "There is clearly something about you that they wish to use. Something of great importance."

"Yeah, I've got that part. But _what_? And what War?"

"I don't know. There have been many wars before and during my time of life, any one of them could be what they're referring to." Stark sighed, rolling onto his side to face Loki properly, "As for you being a _key_. I can only imagine that you, or something on your person, is something that they desperately need."

Another sigh and the chains clinked as Stark lifted that hand to pillow his head on it, uncaring that Loki's was dragged along as well. Truthfully, he was too tired to even snap at that. "Okay. New question, then. Any idea where the hell we are?"

Pointing as subtly as he could, Loki rolled as well, shifting until he was as comfortable as he could get when lying on the ground, "Just past those ridges, there is a way to pass between the realms. I discovered it when I was much younger and, since then, it has only been I and a few others that have known of it's existence."

"So you think that's where we're headed?"

Loki shook his head, "No. A group this size could never fit through it. We're heading for someplace else and I thought — Jotenheimr would be my first answer, usually, but after all that I've seen I'm no longer sure that it even exists anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Looking at the Jotun, Loki shifted again, his face close to Stark's as he explained, "These Giants live in _ice_. In the cold. Vanaheim is _warm_. Much hotter than their own world so why would they choose to live out here, when they had their own world to return to?"

"Well they were after me, so maybe — " The Jotun that had aimed a dagger at Loki before, sat up from where it was lying and turned to them. It's movement effectively silenced Stark and when it finally lay back down, the two of them shared a bitter look before lowering their heads to the ground and shutting their eyes.

 

**_~_ **

* * *

**_~_ **

****

At dawn, they were all woken and made to stand immediately as the group prepared for another day of walking. The mountain side that they now trekked over, however, was far too steep for them to keep up with such a fast pace and the wind was brutal enough to sting tears into their eyes and whip their hair back from their flushed faces. The pass that Loki had found when he'd been a child was ignored as they continued on and that at least proved that it was still only a few that knew of it, but then. Just as they reached one of the ledges near the peak of their climb, he realized that he wasn't as correct with all that he had said.

The Jotun _hadn't_ chosen to live here. They had a way back. Of course.

"What is that?" Stark asked aloud, hushed and wide-eyed, staring mesmerised into the glow of the cave before them all. Loki stood beside him, staring just as much into it's void. Colors spun together inside the gape of a hole, mixing together in ways that reminded him so much of the bi-frost in so many different ways. But it wasn't really anything similar. It was a pass. Between realms or really, between two of them at least, and it was so clearly something that was far too out of place here. If the bi-frost were a person, then this — this portal would be it's demonic version.

Rocks that littered around it and rocks that were embedded into the mountain, had cracked and eroded in protest to it's existence and the strength of the wind and the echo of it's moan was enough to send the prisoners shivering from something that was not chill.

It was not _natural_.

"That." Loki said slowly, watching as the Jotun began to march inside, pulling their line of prisoners and cargo along behind them, "Is how they have been entering Vanaheim. And it is how _we_ will be taken to Jotenheimr in turn."

"Jotenheimr." Stark repeated, his pronunciation a little amusing actually. "The _ice_ -place — we're going _there_?"

"Our leader wishes to talk with you, Anthony Stark." A Jotun informs them — They know his name. Interesting. — taking a hold of the chains attached to their wrists and yanking them forward, "Jotenheimr is his realm. Where else would he be?" It was logical, at least, but still. Loki hated being wrong.

The wind of the passage tugged at his skin, pulling and ripping into him with it's ferocity and when the Jotun stopped just at it's mouth, it enveloped them all until all and everything he could see was only the color and the blur of magic around him.

Stark fell against his chest at the force and the Jotun held their chains tight to stop any lack of balance resulting in them being lost through the space, but they were released as soon as they landed anyway. Landed on the unforgiving chill of Jotenheimr ground. Ice bit hard into Loki's knees when he staggered forward, woozy from the travel and dizzy from the change of extreme temperature. Stark was hunched beside him, shivering and looking around in awe, likely much colder than Loki was but hiding it well enough.

The Jotun's foot crunched behind them both and it sighed, relieved and content at the touch of frost settling over it's cheeks. Stark turned toward it, his skin pinkening in the cold, "If you love it so much here, why leave?" It was, admittedly, a clever way of broaching that subject but he was ignored and the Jotun simply marched forward; taking their chains once again.

"How did that portal come to be?" Loki asked a question of his own, looking over his shoulder as more of the Jotun began to follow. Briefly, he wondered if it could be the same thing that had caused him to travel from Asgard to Vanaheim, but then — he would have seen it, would have noticed the unnatural air that it had created. The void that had swallowed him on Asgard had been something wholly different.

"Move." Was his only answer. Well. At least he hadn't just been ignored as well.

Two more of the Jotun ran toward them then, suddenly speaking quickly with the one holding their chains, and among them Loki noticed the one that had spoken before. The only one, out of them all, that had shown any emotion besides anger at all.

_I've no fight with you trickster._

They were told, ordered and made to stand after that; the prisoners in a circle whilst the Jotun surrounded them.

One of their captors stood before the rest and glared down at them all, and Loki bit the inside of his cheek to stop any sort of comment from arising. He was on thin ice, he needed to stay quiet for now.

"I am Dris'rn." The Jotun told them. "And I will be leading this band of Jotun until we reach our destination so you _will_ follow my every order or suffer the consequence otherwise." Every Vanir stood stock-still and silent and Loki took the opportunity to look at the other Jotun while they listened, trying to find a face that even just _slightly_ flickered in displeasure. Not everyone liked a leader, he'd found over his life, no matter where you went.

Someone here _must_ hate this Dris'rn and that someone could be useful.

"And what _are_ the consequences?" Stark called out from beside him and when Dris'rn's eyes focused on him, Loki couldn't help but roll his eyes to the black sky in annoyance and to hide his scrutiny before it was noticed, "Death? Because if we're talking about a sword to the gut or freezing out following your orders, I'd take the sword any day."

" _You_ ," Dris'rn growled, taking a step toward him, "Will be kept alive until we finish our journey. And if you do disobey me, then I will kill a different prisoner instead. And make you watch." Ooh. Stark's face was cold as he glared back at him and a prolonged silence followed that threat. Dris'rn didn't turn his gaze away during it but, after a while, Stark's morality led him into ducking his head and nodding.

"You will _walk_." Dris'rn then continued, directing his words to the rest of the prisoners as well now, "And you will not stop until we decide ourselves to. The journey will be long and it will be cold, but if you stop or refuse to walk, then you will be left behind to _die_ in the ice. Any other order I or my men give to you, will be obeyed and any of you that does _not_ will suffer the cold out there _alone_."

Turning, he lifted a hand and his men came to attention. The prisoners murmured their alarm, their fear, once they were no longer being watched and Stark shared a look with Loki.

This. Was going to be hard.

 

* * *

 

The Jotun's marched to their usual fast pace, their prisoners made to follow as best they could. No one stopped, no one even stumbled. The woman with her child carried him half the time, sagging with the weight as her arms clearly began to ache. The land seemed endless, ice and mist as far as the eye could see and the shadows of monuments and broken statues littering the horizon. Snow began to deepen the more they walked, and walking then became trudging, more of an effort needed and the cold had became almost unbearable.

Stark's fingers were white from the cold but before he could even start to show any signs of growing ill, fur was draped over him by a Jotun guard. Keeping him alive, as they'd said before. He still shivered beneath it, guilty that the other Vanir had nothing, but he _was_ mortal after all. So much more fragile than the rest of their band.

Half way through the day, however, when aches had become throbs and lifting one foot after the other had become more a force of habit than a necessity, Stark had offered to hold the boy under the fur as he walked. His offer was accepted and the woman's pace had quickened whilst Stark tucked her son against his chest; wrapping the fur around them both as he trudged slower than before.

There was a sun above them but it did nothing to help with the deadly chill seeping into their skin and staggers started now, falls and moans from the cold, but the prisoners forced themselves onward for fear of being left behind. Stark's pace had gotten even slower and Loki had to pull him along by the chain when they fell behind. A Jotun guard stayed with them and prodded them forward so, stiff from the cold himself, Loki took the boy to ease the weight and they walked along faster.

"Th — thanks."

"You should not show yourself as kind to these people, Stark." Loki muttered to him, "They will believe you ready to do anything otherwise."

Giving him a small smile, Stark replied with chattering teeth, "Is — is that a — actually a word of h — helpful advice? Fr — from you?"

"We are chained together." Loki sniffed, giving him a look, before softening it and sighing, "And ... I do owe you my life. Several times over."

Stark opened his mouth to reply again, his smile wider now, but Dris'rn stopped before he could and the band froze on his command. The prisoners were then directed to walk into a nearby cave and fur was given to warm them through the night. No fires were created nor allowed to be made and so the Vanir pressed into each other instead — sharing fur and warmth and comfort. Loki declined Stark's offer to do the same but, after a while, he sighed and accepted because why not? If his enemy could offer then why couldn't he accept?

In this situation, right now, they were — after all — in this together. A partnership could be useful.

 

_**~** _

__

* * *

__

_**~** _

__

Some creature howled in the night, and Loki woke with a start, his left arm numb from how he'd slept over it through the night. Or day. It was always hard to tell in Jotenheimr.

Looking around as he blinked, he squinted through the dark and could easily see the Jotun spread out in the snow. Could see light reflecting off of them and the glisten of ice between their bodies.

Once, he'd heard, Jotenheimr had apparently been a very beautiful place. Now, looking at it through neutral eyes, and not through his usual hatred, he couldn't see how it could have changed so much since that War.

"Mm." Stark turned beside him with a moan, clinking their chains together when Loki looked down at him and that was when he noticed the Vanir lying behind him.

The Vanir man that had not been there when he had fallen asleep.

A hand was on Stark's thigh, squeezing, and in his sleep the mortal turned his face again; his brows pinched together in discomfort — close to waking. Leaning up on his elbows, Loki looked past his shoulders until he could meet the eyes of the man behind him. He was elderly, white-haired and toothless, and when he saw Loki looking he immediately let go and rolled to one side. Raising an eyebrow in disgust, Loki tugged on the chains to slide both him and Stark further away, looking over his own shoulder to make certain that another Vanir wasn't attempting to do the same thing to him.

He didn't sleep the rest of that night and instead thought over all that had happened. The elderly Vanir turned to look at him twice, coming closer whenever he thought that Loki wasn't looking and despite knowing that it would be amusing to see Stark wake to that, the thought behind it was disturbing enough for him to even curl an arm around the fur on Stark's back as a way of keeping the Vanir away.

And Stark woke like that, hours later — pressed against his chest and trapped in fur and limbs. He grunted, jerking his head back to rub at his face before blinking at the position that he was in. Pausing. "Uh. When I said I'd _share_ , I — "

Loki released him without a word just as the Jotun began to wake themselves. Standing, he pulled Stark up beside him and nodded at the now-sleeping Vanir man, "I am not sure what exactly he hoped for, but evidently that Vanir finds you ... arousing."

Stretching and shivering all at the same time, Stark bent to retrieve the fur before straightening abruptly and staring at him, "Huh?" Loki gestured again and Stark followed his gaze, "Wha — _really_?" He looked back, looking as disturbed as Loki had felt last night. "Yuck."

"Well. I think he simply didn't want to attempt anything with his _own_ kind." Loki smirked at him, refraining from mentioning that it had been he who Stark had to thank for stopping it anyway.

"Yeah, well, the _mortal_ is off limits too. Jesus." Staring at the man again, Stark took a step back toward Loki when their view was suddenly blocked by Dris'rn. "Um. Hi." The Jotun barely spared Loki a glance before focusing on Stark only, "Did you know you have perverts on board, Captain?"

"Today you will walk at the front of the group." Dris'rn informed them — ignoring Stark's falsely cheery words — and, from around him, Loki could see the other prisoners being told the same by guards. "No stopping and no noise. You will walk fast or be beaten until you do."

"The two of those contradict each other, do they not?" Loki muttered, looking away when he was glared at. The Jotun that he could see looked agitated now, for whatever reason, and the more he looked, the more they seemed to be.

There was a watcher in the corner of the camp interestingly enough, looking around warily as though there was something out there to be looking for.

"But we don't even know where we're headed. Why the change?" Stark asked and Dris'rn, for all the world, looked as though someone had suddenly laden him with a child that he had no choice but to protect and keep alive. Loki was well-accustomed to that feeling when dealing with Stark by now, actually and that alone was more disturbing than the elderly Vanir had been.

"Because we are being followed." Loki answered for him, his gaze still on the watcher but he turned back when Dris'rn looked at him, "Aren't we." He wasn't answered and the Jotun simply turned back and walked away. But that was really answer enough. Stark made to follow, to question him some more, but Loki's hand on his arm stopped him, "Don't push your luck, Stark. They may need you alive, but alive and able to walk is something else."

Stark lowered his eyes but nodded with a sigh, walking forward with Loki and the other prisoners when they were ordered to, "How'd you know we're being followed?"

"Our captors are tense. What other reason would they have for wanting to keep you at the front?" Cargo was left behind. The pace could be quicker when there was less to carry; not all of them were going to survive this day, they barely made it yesterday at the pace is was at then. Today was going to be much faster. Ruthlessly so. "And not at the back where you would so easily be snatched away."

"Oh, so this is about me again?"

"I'd assume so, yes." The elderly Vanir was left behind when he didn't awaken — frozen to death in the snow. Stark noticed and looked at his body as well. "Oh. Perhaps that had been why then." Looking at Stark he smirked, "One last time before he'd died?" Stark glanced away with a grimace and they were all made to walk on.

The wind was just as unforgiving as it had been the other day but it was made worse by the pace that the Jotun drove them all to. The agitation from before had grown into frustration and more than once, a guard had flung an icicle behind them as though expecting their tails to be lurking there. Perhaps it was simply a pack of creatures following their scent for a meal.

However, looking at the Jotun's faces, he'd assume not.

Trekking over slopes was much harder than trekking through the snow and many of them collapsed once or twice — forcing themselves back to their feet to save their skin. And when Loki saw the body of the body of the boy lying dead in the snow, frozen despite having been held in his mother's arms for so long, he didn't even think before stepping forward and blocking Stark's view should he see. The last thing he needed was for him to run and try to save a dead child — jeopardise them all — but also, maybe even slightly, he was being kind. Stark, from what he'd seen so far, has a problem.

And that problem was mainly his ability to grieve for any child or innocent that was killed.

_**~** _

Camp was made again but there were no caves now which meant that fur would not save them all this night. To preserve Stark's life, however, the Jotun made a fire for him but it was small, so as to not attract whoever it was they were so desperately trying to avoid, and their prisoners all shivered throughout the night.

Ice covered Stark's eyebrows and Loki's lips were numb. Another night would end the lives of more than half of them, possibly. Another night could even kill _Stark_ as well.

Loki turned onto his side, wincing when rocks dug into his ribs and shoulder but unable to find sleep anyway, no matter how he tried to lie back. Stark was awake beside him as well, too cold to sleep but too cold to talk as well. He was staring into the fire, his breath a rattling stutter and Loki watched as mist formed by his mouth after each one.

Smoke from the fire billowed until the cold sent it down again and shapes emerged within it. Loki watched them appear, calling sleep for him in his exhaustion.

And by the time the fire-covered arrow landed just by his head, he realized that those shapes were shadows, and not just his imagination.

It would seem that those following them have caught up then. How wonderful.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos :( 
> 
> I was just reading over comments just now, actually, and they're all golden. Thank you :)


	21. Heir to the chill of allies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  _Do you think the darkness is your ally?_   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> \--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra chapter as another sorry from me <33

* * *

_**~** _

Blood painted the snow. White to red. Black flesh upon pale ground.

Loki was on his feet in seconds, dragging the rather stiff and frozen Stark behind him. Fire scattered the ice as horses reared against it's flames and the blizzard that had started during the night, now fell upon them all in a blur of frost and chill.

The chain on his wrist tugged, colder than anything else, and Stark used it to heave him hard to the side, " _Move it!_ " — hunched and bent from the wind, squinting at the figures fighting through the snow. Jotun rose from their sleep and fought back with their self-made weapons but fire was their weakness and _fire_ was used in abundance.

The prisoners were left — forgotten in the briefest of moments, and they all took that to their advantage; running in the direction of the snow and the white, with regard to the black left behind in their wake.

Loki skidded _with_ Stark over the snow when Dris’rn stepped in their way, arms held high to keep them back, but a cloaked rider on a horse knocked him down hard, with an axe swathed in fire.

Loki backed away, chained and defenseless, staring as the two fought and watching as another rider flung it’s knife toward the Vanir; slicing through their chains and setting them free to run and flee the scene.

“Loki!” Stark’s hand was again insistent in it’s tugging, hauling him away from the fight, “Loki, we have to get out here!" Pain stung in his wrist but sill, he wouldn't leave, " Loki — Come _on_! _Move_!” His feet slid through snow on it's own accord but only when Dris'rn killed his opponent and turned to them both again, did he finally turn and run.

The blizzard slowed them down, the wind too harsh and too strong for them to fight against but to turn back now meant only death or a return to prisonment. But even now, running became far too exhausting and after being subjected to walking all day, Stark eventually slumped before him. And Loki had no choice but to follow and to fall beside him on the ground.

Panting. And so, alarmingly, tired.

"How — how does this — always. Always seem to — happen to us?" Stark gasped out, his lips blue and his eyes blown and wide, speckles of white snow in his hair. Loki couldn't breathe enough to speak — not even enough to half-heartedly force the point that there was no _'us_ ' — but at the sound of yet another horse behind them, they quickly struggled to force themselves to their feet; stumbling and slipping over the ice.

Stark turned to look over his shoulder, running ahead of Loki just by a little and the bulk of a shape that came before him appeared too quickly for Loki to warn. Colliding into the Jotun's chest, Stark reared back, crying out at the burn of the cold on his bare cheek but when they turned, the rider with his horse was there.

Trapped. _Damn_ it.

Looking around, Loki hoped for a stick. For a club or rock. _Anything_. Anything to knock them hard enough to the ground, to at least allow them escape but there _was_ nothing. Nothing but snow and ice, and every limb of his was far too numb from the exhaustion, too weak to use in a fight.

"Who are you?" He demanded of it instead, his tongue his next strongest weapon, and the rider jumped from it's mount — approaching them both as graceful as anything, as though the storm didn't even touch it. " _Show yourself!_ "

Dust was blown into his eyes. Smoke, magic. The numbness in Loki's body and mind spread throughout the rest of his body, filling every pore with an ache and a need for sleep and when he opened his mouth to ask that same question again, all that really seemed to come out was a mere moan of discomfort and pain, before he was falling.

Hands caught him, and he was placed on a horse. The snow on Stark's hair, flying as he screamed, was the last thing he saw.

 

_**~** _

__

* * *

__

_**~** _

__

It was warm when he awoke.

_Warm._

And that — that alone — was more comforting than anything. The lack of chains on his wrist was another in that, and when he sat up under shelter of a tent, looking up at the glow of a sun above him, he wondered briefly if he had died.

A tent, however, would be far too meager for Valhalla. Not to mention how someone like him would never reach that world in death anyhow. Not with the way he was.

Turning, he winced when bones protested the movement, but he couldn't stay here. He didn't even know how he'd _gotten_ here in the first place and that —

"I would not move if I were you."

Loki froze, staring at the flap of the tent instead of where that voice had came from, but it only took another second to realize that it had not sounded like a threat.

And, also, that that voice was startlingly familiar.

Turning his head a little to the side, Loki sat back and stared, raising an eyebrow when he saw what he hadn't quite been expecting. Ivan. Sitting in the corner; rather casually actually, and dressed in armor.

Clearly — not dead.

"You look surprised." He commented, as smug as he had been when Loki had first met the boy. "Did you not think me resilient enough to survive?"

"Truthfully?" Loki sneered, though it was weak. Gratitude was something that he seemed to be seeping nowadays but that at least made it easier to show, "No. But I _am_ surprised yes. Surprised that you would even bother to rescue me."

For this was definitely a rescue. Loki had misjudged Ivan once, but now. He was certain.

Scoffing, Ivan turned his head to the side with a smile and Loki followed his gaze, finding Stark asleep in the tent also; curled and swathed in fur and silk. "It was not you we came to rescue." Ah. "My father may have believed that the fates have held you champion for us, but I've reason to believe it is another that does."

Stark? Well that makes more sense that it being _Loki_. "Champion?"

Ivan looked at him again now, reaching for a jug beside him and drinking from it directly, "Savior." He then said, instead.

Narrowing his eyes, Loki rolled his tongue over his teeth as he studied him sitting there, "You never treated him as such when you met him before."

"You never told us his name." Ivan argued — as though that made any difference — sounding amused now. Older even. And perhaps he was, in a way. He'd spoken of his father just now, as though he were lost, and Loki could only assume that meant that he had perished then; in the fires of that camp from before.

Having lost so much that night, perhaps he had matured then. He still believed in prophecies, however, if his implication of knowing Stark's name was what Loki thought it was.

"Who else is there, here?" Ivan frowned at him, drinking from the jug again and belching afterward rather rudely. Loki didn't even bother to raise his eyebrows and, instead, looked down as Stark stirred on the floor for a second, before relaxing and sleeping again. Unnatural sleep. Whatever that dust had been ... it must have been something similar to the crush of herbs that his mother had once produced to silence a screaming Thor.

Loki remembered wanting to learn how to do that. Only, really, so he could always just blow it into his brother's face whenever he annoyed him and send him to sleep in any situation.

Unfortunately, that certain element of knowledge had been forbidden to him since childhood and the art of herbs in magic was something that he was rather limited in.

"There were many others in that blizzard."

Ivan folded his arms across his chest, looking at the flap once just as his sister opened it and walked inside with bread and meat. A little meat only but still. _Food_.

She handed it to Loki, a half-wary smile on her face when she saw him and he took from her gently; not touching it just yet. He wanted answers first and, at least now, he could finally get a few of them.

She clambered into Ivan's lap as Loki watched, leaning over to play with a few strands on Stark's sleeping head. "Eira is here. Alive." Ivan told him, holding onto his sister with an arm around her waist, "Along with Kari, her lover and the Priest's daughter." Stark stirred again and Rowan jerked back her hand as though burnt, staring up at her brother as though she'd done something wrong. He ignored her, his eyes only on Loki, "There are many others but — you would not know them. _I_ do not know them all. They found us, actually. Found us running from the Jotun."

"And who are ' _they_ '?"

When Stark relaxed again, Rowan pushed off of her brother and jumped down beside him, curling up herself under his limp left arm; remembering him from before, probably, as her brief play-mate. Ivan's face flickered with something odd at that — jealousy? — but he didn't move his sister away.

"Dwarfs." He answered Loki. "And Elves. Vanir, Seers, Jotun." Loki met his eyes, shock rippling through him that at first he thought he was being mocked, " _All_ that know that the realms should not be so conjoined in this are together here."

_What?_

" _Conjoined_?" Loki spat out before he thought it through enough and Ivan frowned at that, immediately.

"Yes, the — " He paused, staring at him, "You — you did not know?" Well that was insulting.

Sitting back, Loki glared at him, "I've known something had happened, of course. It was obvious, and after falling from Asgard all that I've seen has only made me think that more." Ivan nodded, agreeing, "Creatures that should not be in different realms have been so, but — after seeing the portal that took me to Jotenheimr I assumed that that was — "

"The portals lead us from realm to realm, yes, but they came into creation _because_ as we are all joined now. They are like paths. Simple roads between space." Impossible. "Something has happened, something so big that it has changed all of our lives, our worlds. Trolls roamed Vanaheim for over half a _year_ but _still_ my father denied it. It was as though he could not _understand how_."

Loki looked at him, leaning onto his arms and thinking on that himself. Thor — King of Asgard — _must_ have seen this, he could _not_ have been as blind as Loki had been hoping him to be so far.

And so, perhaps, he _had_. Perhaps he had seen and had known but — "Your father was not the only one."

"No." Ivan agreed, "There are have been many others that believe this to be the norm. Others that grieved the _destruction_ but could not believe it to have happened. The knowledge of new creatures in our realm was a shock to them, at first, but then it became something else. As though they all forgot that they were not meant to _be_ there. Forgot whose realm belonged to who."

Changing history. Changing the view every creature had of the worlds. Of where they lived. Their palace suddenly a farm, and though they were of course shocked to see it that way, the next moment it was as though it had always _been_ that way. It wasn't unheard of, but to see it at such a _magnitude_. In all the _realms_.

No one person did this. This was magic to it's most intense power.

Dangerous, meddling magic. Dark.

But why do _this_? There must be a purpose behind it, must be a _reason_.

"What else do you know?"

"That there are only a few that I've met that know the realms have changed, that know how they once used to be. And that is the band I ride with. The band you owe your lives to."

"My life." Loki corrects, "Stark," He nods to the sleeping man, "Was being kept alive as best the Jotun could. They — needed him, apparently."

That didn't seem a surprise at all, "Yes. As do we."

Really. How very interesting. Perhaps now he could finally find out — " _Why_? What is it about him you all need? The Jotun, you, the — "

"We do not know why. We simply _know_." Was his answer but it was not from Ivan's mouth that it came. And in the next moment a Jotun hand pulled back the flap, entering the tent after having announced his presence just before. Loki was on his feet in a second, his fists curled and ready to fight should he need to.

Ivan stood quickly as well, a hand on Loki's shoulder that he only shrugged off, "No, wait. He is not your enemy." Let me decide that for myself. "This is Býleistr. He is one of the band, he means you no harm."

Really.

 _Býleistr_. The Jotun from before. Traitor to his own band of men then, if it was true. "Býleistr." Loki said slowly, looking at him, intent on telling him that he was recognised, "So you've no fight with me then? A plan for rescue instead, it seems."

A slight smirk and the chill that Býleistr brought with him sent a visible shiver down Ivan's back from beside Loki, "You were never meant to be captured. I would have rather that you found the band before and had helped us all in gaining back the mortal." Giving him a look, Býleistr then lowered his voice into something low, "You, however, are stubborn; I've noticed. You made it all much harder."

Well. "I apologize." Or, rather, _not_.

"Oh don't be so petty."

Loki blinked, staring at him a little in disbelief, "Excuse me?"

Ivan sighed, bending to lift Rowan up from under Stark's arm, "Býleistr. He does not know."

Oh, he hated it when people spoke about it like that. Especially when he was here to hear it. "Know _what_?" He snarled, glaring at Býleistr who only smirked back. Irritatingly so.

Rowan reached out to touch Býleistr's markings but he flinched back, shaking his head in warning and she bit her lip, hiding her face in Ivan's shoulder just as he turned toward Loki, "Who he is." Clearly someone _entitled_ judging from his tone. And his _words_. "Býleistr is the third son of Laufey." Ivan informed him and Loki's stomach dropped like a stone within him, "He is the heir to the throne of their realm."

Loki's face grew rigid in shock. Anger almost, but not really. He didn't have that right. In fact, he wasn't quite sure _what_ he felt.

"Is he really."

_**~** _

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki calls Ivan a boy, but remember. To us, he'd probably be around 30 or something ;)


	22. To tell the future, to tell it all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_The dead have much more powerful voices than the living._ **
> 
> \--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I need to update my other WIPs now, seriously :P

* * *

**_~_ **

****

The camp was much larger than Loki had assumed it to be and looking at the many numbers of people sitting about the tents, he wondered in awe at just how long this had actually been going on if all of these creatures had managed to find each other in this.

Ivan directed him around it all, showing him the food and the weapons — _trusting him_ in that, surprisingly — whilst Býleistr simply followed them both. The air of leadership that seemed to drip off of the Jotun in clumps made Loki almost _sick_ to stand near him.

When they had first left the tent, Loki had seen a large, silver plaque placed over two rocks, with the names of loved one etched over it in black ink with the dates of their deaths. Looking over it, Loki had actually offered Ivan his condolences when his finger had found 'Ingriede's' name amongst those dead; her brother's was right beside her and after that, Ivan had noticeably relaxed and whatever hostility that was still left in him was lost.

While they walked through the tents, Loki was almost amused to find that — despite seemingly being brought together — every creature still only stayed with their own kind. The dwarfs, loud and obnoxious, sat by the fires and roasted whilst the elves stayed by the edge of the forest and tittered away with bows and magic. Vanir mingled together in their tents and though Býleistr was only one of five other Jotun, the rest of the camp gave them all a wide berth that it didn't even matter where they decided to sit — they would always be alone.

Typical.

"This is Mirith," Ivan introduced Loki just as they neared the edge of the camp and a dark-haired elf stood at the sound of her name, turned to them both, and smiled at Ivan when he held a hand out to her, "She is the one you owe your lives to."

Ah. The cloaked rider in the snow. "Mirith." Loki repeated, looking at her. She met his eyes, her own light and sparkling with magic and joy, "I — suppose I owe you my thanks then, as well as my life."

"A thanks is all that I need, Prince Loki, your life is not." She murmured back, nodding her head. "I have heard much about you over the years of my life." Everyone always has, "But, I must say," Looking him over with a raised eyebrow, she then said something that even surprised Loki, "That it was only due to your alliance with a _mortal_ that is perhaps the only reason I agreed to save you."

Ouch.

Regardless of her false belief that he was allied with Stark, her statement, for whatever reason, actually stung and it must have shown on his face as she then softened her next words. "However. Ivan also tells me that you attempted to help save a friend of his. But that she died regardless of what you could do for her after you were captured by the Jotun band." Before, actually — and it was Stark that tried to do all he could, Loki gave up rather quickly, but if that was what they all wanted to believe, then so be it.

How she had died however ... he shook the memory free from his head, ignoring it's resurface.

"There is always more to me than is seen." He said instead, dryly in return, and her smile widened until the white of her teeth glimmered just behind her lips.

"Is there." She grinned, looking at him. Beside them both, Ivan cleared his throat as though he still had more to say, but not before Loki could reply to that his own way.

"There is also much more beneath the clothing, if you care to see." Her predictable laugh was loud, high, and, _oh_ , it had been a while since he'd spoken like this to a woman.

"I will have to take your word for that, I'm afraid, as I believe Ivan's a need to talk with you."

"Why talk when you can — "

Another cleared throat and Ivan stood between then, "Please — we are in the middle of a _War_." He interrupted angrily and — wait.

What?

Loki turned toward him, " _War_?" So not a War of the past then, a War _now_. " _What_ — ?" That, then, took away every ounce of humor in Mirith's gaze and she turned toward Býleistr with a dark look; jerking her head at him.

"Ask the Jotun. He knows best of _Wars_." She snapped and had it been Loki she'd been talking to, beautiful or not, he would not have taken that tone. As it is, Býleistr simply lowered his head in hidden offense and turned away, walking toward one of the tents instead. Mirith's angry gaze followed him the entire way as Loki looked between them.

Another elf stood then, taking Mirith by the arm and speaking quietly to her until she sat once again; though not before giving Loki a long look of both approval _and_ disapproval, "If you wish for answers you'll not get them from me." She said and that was all Loki had patience for.

Ivan turned away then as well then, following Býleistr out toward the tents before visibly deciding against it and leaving to find his sister instead. Leaving Loki alone, standing without even an answer to his only question, and with none to the other dozen he had on his lips as well.

Anger, the anger always coiled beneath him, rose then and he glared toward the tents.

_Ask the Jotun._

Alright then. For answers, he _will_.

 

_**~** _

__

* * *

__

_**~** _

__

Býleistr didn't allow him entry when announced but Loki walked inside anyway; tired of being left in the dark.

This was probably a bad idea but he was too frustrated to care.

The other Jotun had his back to him, a map of the realms spread out over a table and covered with ice. It must hurt to be living in such warmth for all of the time that it was no wonder he had made his own tent emit such a harsh chill. Comfort.

It irked Loki that it did the same for him.

"It is only because it is you, that you are not dead right now."

Clenching his jaw to stop any sort of insult coming out, Loki took a seat beside the map; studying Býleistr's face as he scanned his red eyes over it, "Because it is _me_?" He echoed, raising an eyebrow when the other Jotun met his eyes for a second before glancing away.

"You know who I am." Was all he said, tightening his hands over the frozen table, "And, if you are as they say, then you know what that means." Looking away, Loki surveyed the tent instead, trying not to react.

"If you wish to kill me for killing your father, then I suggest you do now." He then said lightly, after a while of there being only a cold silence. "While I am still weak from all that's happened."

"You came to me for answers, not death." Býleistr stated, not even looking at him but still at that damned map, "And I cannot kill you, even if I wanted to." Finally meeting his gaze, Býleistr almost seemed to smirk toward him; dry, bitter. _Tired_. "The mortal is not the only one in that prophecy, Loki. You, for whatever purpose, are as well. ' _Chaos God of trickery_ '."

Oh wonderful. More prophecies. More riddles. "Really. And what _prophecy_ is this now? What grand, horrendous deed am I meant to be doing this time?" Another smirk and Býleistr even chuckled at Loki's anger.

"You sound frustrated brother."

Ice cold fury bled through him in a second. "Do _not_. Call me that."

Back to the map again. "Why not? We are, are we not. Laufey was my father. Laufey was your father. Our mothers were perhaps different, but we will never know that for certain will we. You murdered him before."

This had most definitely been a bad idea, coming here. "He tried to kill Asgard's King."

" _You_ manipulated him into." It was rather unnerving to see just how calm he was with this. Although. It _had_ been so many years since it had happened but — if it were Loki in that position, then that hatred and that anger would only be that much deeper for him.

But then again. Not all think like him. Perhaps —

"I know what you think of him." Loki's hands became fists. _Do you really_. "But he was a good King. A fair one. Just."

"And what of his _parenthood_?" Loki spat back, "Would you defend him still, if you knew that he left you out to _die_ in a temple when you were only a mere _child_." Where was this anger coming from? Why — "That you were not wanted enough. Would you?"

_Left to die._

Pausing, Býleistr looked up at him at that, "And what would you know of that? You were a mere babe during the War." So he knew the story, then.

"I — " Loki's answer died on his lips however, because he really did _not_ want to say something like 'Odin told me'. "Well. I'll never know the truth now, will I."

"Hm." The map was studied again. "Because you killed him."

Something then snapped within Loki's already shaky temper and the table flew backward at a swipe from his hand. His — _damn it all_ — his _brother_ did not move at that and simply continued to stare down as though the map were still there, "You cannot bring back the dead Jotun!"

"I never asked to, _Jotun_. I simply want for you to at least feel the guilt over what you have done." Bending to pick the table up, Býleistr still refused to look at him, "However. It seems that they are right in what they say. You _are_ incapable of that emotion."

Loki's hands uncurled.

Oh, enough of this. "What prophecy holds my name?" He ~~snarled~~ — asked again, instead, and Býleistr flipped the map back onto the righted table in answer, turning it over wordlessly before sliding it over toward Loki under the light of a freshly-lit candle, "Well?"

"You can read, can you not."

Scowling darkly at him, Loki glanced down, his eyes scanning over the words written there in elvish scrawl; red in color, dark too, and it only took a moment to realize that it had been written in blood.

Whoever had said this prophecy, then, was likely dead. Killed for saying it, perhaps? Dying when saying it.

Dying when _writing_ it.

He read it over three times, trying to make sense of it all enough that he could at least build on what he already knows, but it was riddled, nonsense almost.

It gave him nothing new.

_**~** _

* * *

_**~** _

__

"What does it mean?" Stark asked him an entire hour later, shivers finally gone and new and better clothes given to him. Traditional in the Elvin-style — tight, fitted. They'd given him them in black, to hide the white of their bandages, but the color still contrasted heavily against the purple of his bruises and the red of his scars and marks. He'd also shaved — with a knife probably — and was currently eating from a plate full of berries.

Loki had found him after a while of walking about, just as he had been, quite rudely actually, 'dismissed' from Býleistr's tent. It was perhaps, an act of his _'guilt'_ that he had not protested.

Stark had been with the elves when Loki had eventually seen him; listening to their explanations of all that had happened and letting them tend to his wounds, making them laugh with whatever vulgar words he was uttering.

Now — sitting with Loki outside the two tents that were to be theirs — he'd asked what Loki had been doing and, for want of a conversation with someone who was just as lost in all this as himself, Loki had told him. He of course, had not told of his new 'brother' discovery, nor of the fact that the entire camp believed them allied and that Loki was only really here because of that belief; unless he was to listen to what the prophecy said and wonder if Býleistr would have even had enough power to declare a rescue for him as well.

"I do not know. It — it is written almost as a song. Words that flow as nonsense." Mirith passed them by once or twice, offering Loki berries also, which he declined, and teasing about his own offer from before. Stark had given him an almost startled but appraising look at that, before tucking into the berries that he had contrastingly accepted.

"Okay." Stark said, popping something juicy and red into his mouth, "So just say it."

"You can go read it yourself, it is only written on the back of the map." Stark swallowed the berry too fast and coughed behind one hand, staring at him with watering eyes.

"You're kidding right? That guy's huge, I'm not messing with anything to do with his or theirs. 'Savior' or not." Eating another, he turned to Loki, raising an eyebrow, "And anyway. I thought — " He swallowed. "I mean, according to the Vanir from before, _you_ were the savior. Weren't you. I mean, I didn't believe it but — "

"The prophecy calls for a 'Chaos' God. The — 'Chaos God of Trickery'. I am not the only one."

"Yeah, right."

Loki gave him a dark, withering look before turning away and staring up at the sun. Býleistr exited his tent from just opposite them at that moment then, and nodded when he saw Loki looking.

Loki didn't nod back; turning toward Stark instead with a sigh.

"I do not have to explain myself to you." He said, though that didn't really make much sense right now. Miraculously, other than giving him a strange look, Stark said nothing in return. And. Eventually. Loki simply sighed again and indulged him, recalling as best he could from memory.

.

_Through day's break and through day's end.  
Sun will meet and moon's shine will go.  
Despair and grief will play it's part.  
And fragile hearts will take their blow. _

_A Chaos God, whose trickery flows.  
Will find the heart that leads us all.  
The blue in his chest. The power in breath.  
A King's mantle and a King's word. _

_Uttered in dark times where threats,  
and evil doers, and demonic whispers,  
all went their ways unheard.  
No time lost and no time spared,  
Anthony Stark will save if only he dared,  
_

_A King must stand and a King must speak  
For with no King, there is always only defeat._

_~_   


 

A little bitter, really, that he was only really mentioned as a title and not by name as he usually was in these, Loki turned toward Stark to see his reaction, "Prophecies do tend to — Stark?" Loki blinked, looking at him. Stark didn't move. He was breathing at least, but —

He stared straight ahead at nothing, shock in his eyes, guilt even, "Stark." He started, sliding his gaze over to Loki, "What is it?"

"I — it's nothing, I — it's just." He cleared his throat, coming back to himself, "I've just — I've heard that before. It was — I know that prophecy already. Sort of. There are — there's words missing from mine and stuff but — "

"Where?" Loki asked, his lips thin, though he already knew the answer anyway, "Who told you it?"

Looking up at him, Stark blinks twice, looking a little embarrassed at his reaction but shock is surprise and surprise is shock. It didn't exactly mean — "Who?"

"Frigga." Stark answered, knowing full well just what he was implying. "Your — mother. She told me." Loki gritted his teeth, wishing for not the first time to see her and ask her why, "She knew it would happen. She — she knew it all ..."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how predictable was that :/ lol
> 
> Excuse any typos D:


	23. I grieved, mourned and lost.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
>  
> 
> **It is a Universal truth, that the loss of a mother, greatly affects a man throughout all of his life.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I have never been so unmotivated, but there is a good reason for it! I was going through caffeine withdrawal.
> 
> Anyhow, this is the first update following another few that will come soon ;)
> 
>  **Reminder: There is character death in the tags.** \- I also planned Frigga's death before Thor 2, because it was essential to the plot, but there's so much similar to Thor 2 and this fic, that I was like _woah_ , okay ;) Even things I'd already written.

.

* * *

 

"Here. Make yourself useful and cut these."

"Why? What are they?"

Loki glanced at him once and that seemed to be enough, because Stark then only rolled his eyes at him and took the knife to slice through the fruit anyway. "Well? What are they? Onions?" Loki sighed, cutting into his own ration.

"No."

"Well, they're stinging my _eyes_ like onions." Stark muttered, rubbing at a tear on his cheek with the back of his hand and clumsily cutting through the fruit; cursing when it refused to slice through neatly, whilst glancing over toward the others in the camp - as though wishing that one of them would come on over and let them know what was going on.

Loki wordlessly took Stark's fruit when he began to day-dream, having already done his, and he sliced through it in a matter of seconds; easily so. He didn't say anything on the matter but apparently his pointed silence was enough anyway.

Stark leant back, frowning, "Sorry, we're not all such _expert_ slicers." A predictable pause. "Did your mom teach you how to do that?" Loki gripped the knife in his hands, and even though he had been expecting it, he still accidentally cut the fruit clean in half instead of into slices. Damn Stark's curiosity.

Ever since the revelation that Frigga had known of the prophecy before anyone else had, and had confided in Stark himself - though excluding his name from the words most probably purposefully - the man had been finding every opportunity to speak about her and to find out _why_ she had done as she had and how her powers truly worked. Every sentence and every question since had been less-than-subtly directed back toward her in the hopes that Loki would finally snap and fight him on it, or _actually_ answer his with something more in-depth.

"No." Loki took another fruit, slicing into it. "Now pass me the other knife."

The second knife was slapped into his hand, hard, "Are we seriously going to avoid _talking_ about this?"

"Yes."

Stark glared, "Well _I_ won't. It involves me, and all of this shit is somehow connected, I know it is, so however out of the loop you think or want me, you're not going to get very far in holding me there."

"Think again."

He was ignored. "So. Questions to answer. _Why_ did your mother tell me about the prophecy, but not tell me that my name was actually _in_ it? Unless, I don't know, she didn't know it was?" He looked at Loki, "Can seers get different visions from each other?"

One of his slices dropped to the floor but he left it there, cutting a different one instead. "Yes."

He waited for more but Loki only turned to the bowl, and scooped the slices into it. "Okay. Well it's an answer at least." He smiled at him, sarcastically, "See. We're finally getting somewhere."

"Mm."

"Okay, so seers can get different visions then. So maybe she didn't _know_ about that part. But then why _tell_ me about it at all, then? It makes no sense. _None_ of this makes any sense."

Well. He was right there.

"Are you even listening?"

"No."

"You know what,  you're - "

"Loki." With a start, the both of them glanced up when their seats were suddenly covered with shadow, but upon seeing who it was standing there Loki only looked back down at the fruit.

Silence drew out for a bit, before - "Hi." Stark offered after a single moment of hesitation, grinning nervously, "We're cutting fruit, you want some?"

"These are for _healing_ Stark." Loki muttered dryly, "And I see no 'cutting' from your side at all." To his surprise, all he received for that was a tongue sticking out at him. He blinked, a little more than surprised at the casual display of childishness, but ignored it anyway.

Býleistr looked between them both, waiting patiently for their conversation to end, before continuing on with what he had come to say, "The group has chosen hunters for the week, Loki, and you have been assigned. Along with Valkir and I. We hunt at noon, so get whatever weapons you wish to have." Loki didn't answer, pressing the fruit together with the palm of his hand to merge them into paste, "I understand why you would wish to refuse. But you are not well-liked here, so I recommend that you - "

"I don't really care at all what you think I ought to do." Loki murmured, still pressing into the fruit. Stark looked at him, and then at Býleistr, with a frown before standing as well, and dusting himself off.

"I could hunt." He offered, "It'd be nice to get out of here for a bit, go for a walk, or something." Býleistr barely glanced at him, his eyes fixed on Loki.

"If you were harmed, we would not be able to help you here."

"I'm a lot sturdier than I look, you know."

Loki placed the bowl down with a sigh, "You are mortal Stark, is his meaning." Standing as well, he winced when the bones in his knees strained for just a moment, and he grit his teeth at the automatic need to use his magic to calm the pain - knowing that sooner or later his ineptitude in that area will eventually be shown. "I will hunt, anyhow. No need to make _ill_ with my saviors, now is there."

Býleistr didn't even bother answering to his iciness, and only turned away from them both, "Then gather some weapons and follow us out. Mirith has any that you can borrow in her tent, until you can forge your own." Loki nodded once, coolly, shoving the bowl into Stark's hands and walking away in that direction.

He felt Stark's eyes on him as he left, and mockingly mimed cutting - mouthing 'get to it, then' - before he eventually went around the corner of another tent; resulting in a dark look from him, that was probably going to be his only source for amusement today.

 

**_~_ **

* * *

**_~_ **

 

Mirith's tent was empty when Loki entered to gather some of these supposed weapons and he ignored the presence of Býleistr behind him; waiting. There were only a few in here, anyhow, and it was easy to pick a strong-enough sword and a collection of knives before pushing past the tent's flap and walking past the Jotun 'heir'.

"What even is there in these parts to hunt?" He asked, sheathing the sword and inspecting the knives as they walked - not exactly an expert on anything in Vanaheim, to his shame. As they passed each other tent, in the corner of his eye he saw Stark sitting where he had left him, talking and 'cutting' with another of the Jotun. The sight was more than strange, to say the least, and he wondered just how low these Jotun felt that they had come, to now converse with a Midgardian willingly and to even protect one that they believed was the basis of some _prophecy_. One that may not even come true.

"There are many creatures here that are easily caught. The trip will be long, however. Not many venture near our camps." He then glanced at Loki, narrow-eyed and piercing, "You told the mortal of the prophecy." It was not a question, and so he didn't answer.

"You said that another would hunt with us." Loki said instead, "Who?"

Býleistr nodded, still glaring at him, "Yes. Valkir will be accompanying us. Mostly for protection should our hunt draw anything else near."

"From his name, I would guess that he was a dwarf. Not much for protection."

"Dwarf he may be, but weapon-hood is in his blood." Looking at him, seemingly unperturbed by Loki's indifference toward him, "Believe me, brother. He will protect us enough."

He had a death wish, clearly. "I told you not to call me that."

"Why?" Suddenly angry, Býleistr sped up as though trying to halt Loki in his steps, "Hm? Why should I _not_?"

Pushing past two Vanir boys, Loki raised a hand over his eyes to shield them from the blazing sun, "You sound like a child." He spat, walking a little faster when he saw a dwarf standing at the edge of the camp, leaning on the edge of an axe as though waiting. Valkir, he'd assume, then. Býleistr refused to fall behind, though, and only matched Loki's speed. He did quiet, however, so there was that.

"Jotun." The dwarf said in greeting, and Loki felt a smidgen of smugness radiating through him at the clear hostility between them. The same that he had witnessed before, when Mirith had blamed Býleistr for being the cause of this all. Hm. That was interesting, to say the least. "You took your time."

"Nonetheless, we are here." Loki spoke, sliding the knives into his belt now, "So, now. Lead on, dwarf, and let us hunt."

 

_**~** _

* * *

_**~** _

 

This forest was just as dense as the one that Loki had found himself in before - after fleeing the arena from the Trolls and from _Ulik_. Býleistr had taken the lead here, slicing apart any branches in the way with just his arm, and probably scaring off any of their catches.

Loki walked much slower than the other two, even contemplating leaving them behind entirely and either running ahead to hunt alone or leaving to find his own allies and his own way around this all.

But the idea didn't even last long in his mind. He hadn't exactly survived out here well enough on his own, and even when he had _had_ some company, trouble had not seemed so far behind. Being in a group will probably be better for him, and who knew, perhaps another time there will be a far more prudent for him to leave.

"Stop." Valkir suddenly raised a hand, looking over his shoulder at them to see that they'd complied. His dark hair was tied back for hunting but ringlets still fell past his stubby neck as he looked in each direction. "Do you hear that?"

Loki sighed, bored of all this stopping - this being the third time now - but he listened out anyway; humoring the paranoia that both his companions seemed to have. For a while they stood still and the call of birds and smaller animals to each other was all that they could hear for all that time, until eventually, Valkir lowered his fist. "I ... thought there was something."

"Well be sure next time, then, or you will only keep on wasting our time. We've need to get back soon." The words might as well have been taken from his own mouth, but it was Býleistr who said them, to Loki's personal disgust.

Valkir didn't even comment any more than a derogatory insult toward Jotuns, anyway, and then they all continued onward. Loki kept quiet himself, intent on keeping any ill-will away from him while he stayed in their company. Besides, gaining trust was what always helped him in the end, so he was loath to make enemies so soon in this new situation.

 

_**~** _

 

* * *

 

_**~** _

 

One thousand miles away, that same day, Asgard - the glorious realm - was in utter ruin.

Voided gaps in the realm had formed almost everywhere and anywhere and the great tombs of the past rulers were now nothing more than a vast room of emptiness. Families lay huddled together, either dead or separated in the midst of all this fresh panic; fire was in every direction, and there was no one anywhere that could cease it.

Guards and warriors lay half of them under the rubble of the Grand Hall whereas others had fled to safer parts; taking with them all who could follow. The palace was void of all.

All ... but _one_.

Frigga. The all-mother, the Queen of Asgard, the mother to the bastard son of Joteinheimr and the King of Asgard. She lay on her side, frailer than she had ever been before, spread on the bed that she had once shared with her late husband. The roof of their chamber was piled over her legs and torso and she gazed up at the sky through the hole they had made. It was beautiful.

Both her sons were alive, that she was sure of, that she knew, and that was all she could think of in these last moments. Their names fade on her lips, and she closes her eyes - dreaming of the days before. Where a smile from each family member had not been so hard to muster.

It is Heimdall who found her, in the end, returning to the rubble to search for survivors, only to find the Queen laid out beneath the marble of her home.

He carried her body. Spread the news, the grief, and the people mourned the loss of their homes and of their rulers. Thor, fallen through the void, and Frigga - now lost to them all. No funeral could yet occur, and only the mass mourning that spread throughout what was left of Asgard was what signified the great loss that the realm had felt.

The news continued to fly, between the people and the letters and words, until it finally reached a scout in Vanaheim - one that heard it from a survivor from Asgard and rode back to pass the message along to his camp and allies; informing them all that the All-Mother had perished in the destruction of Asgard.

Tony Stark heard this and he understood, with his own brief shock, what it all now meant for him and for his friend. Thor. Though he didn't know that the King was still alive, he hoped he was and _knew_ that when - or if - he finally heard the news of his mothers death, it would affect him too much. And he wouldn't be able to be there for him. Would be stuck here, away from everyone, and lost from returning to his home.

He slowly sat on the seat Loki had left him in, unsure of what to say or think or do. Gossip had already started and the knowledge only seemed to affect a few. But Frigga had been so welcoming toward him, and though he almost resented her for her prior knowledge of the prophecy, he knew that she was the sort of woman who would always be unconditionally kind. And that was a loss he felt personally, reflecting on his own mother's neglect.

And for that alone, he joined the few who actually cared enough to mourn; lighting the candles and standing in deathly silence; nervously waiting for when her other son would return from hunting.

Where he would then hear of his mother's as well.

Tony closed his eyes. Everything was going to hell. And he still had no idea what Earth was like.

God.

.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's very short because there's going to be a few more very soon :)


	24. For her.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **A mother is not for life, my son. She is for love.**

.

* * *

 

 

A shard of glass could puncture the body in a matter of seconds, depending on just how fast it was traveling through the air, to _sink_ into the skin standing right in it's deadly projection.

And yet, though having experienced this himself so many times in his life, there was nothing in it that he could use to compare with how he felt _now_. And though - if he was coldly honest with himself, he would say that he had been expecting this - that in some little way, he had already known that there was no way she could have survived being in the rooms while everything around them had shattered.

But.

Expecting it and hearing it - being _told_ it, even, by someone _half_ his age and with so much _pity_ , was something so completely different. Ivan, the messenger was _grieving_ himself, as well, for his own parent's deaths and so he _understood_ what this felt like.

Of course he did.

Alone, and repelling any attempts at company, Loki sat over a rock at the edge of the camp; hidden from all view and hunched over the edge of a miniature stream. Overwhelmed and underwhelmed with emotion all at once, and breathing so heavily that he may as well have _run_ all the way here.

He could feel his magic within him, as though it were being restrained, and it took him just a second to realize that he had not felt his magic since the fall and that that it was his _heart_ clenching instead.

Pain was the only emotion radiating within him now, in so many different forms. No. No, that wasn't entirely true. _Anger_ was very prominent as well. Anger at this all, at his Mother most of all. What was she _thinking_ staying alone in the chambers?! Why hadn't she left them during the destruction, or called out for help? _Someone_ would have helped her, she was the Queen! Her magic was what had helped build his own as well, and there were so many spells that she could have used to lift that panel off of her and _live_. He knew there were.

So why hadn't she? Why had she just _let_ it happen to her?! Did she _want_ to make her sons grieve? Was her loneliness without Odin too much for her, that she'd needed to be with him in Valhalla? Because - of all the _stupid_ , sentimental - !

The stick that he hadn't even realized was in his hand sailed through the air, snapping when it hit a tree on the other side of the stream, and he shoved his head down into his hands; clenching at his hair and breathing in slowly to calm himself down.

He didn't sob, not quite, he wouldn't. Not here and not yet. But even so, he couldn't help but -

"Um?"

Oh for -

Go _away_. Gritting his teeth, Loki looked around and over his shoulder, "I told no one to bother me." He snapped, barely bothering to be surprised at who it was.

Stark didn't move from where he stood, uncharacteristically quiet for once, but he nodded in affirmation that he had least heard, "Yeah I know. But the elf-girl, um, Miral?" Mirith. "She asked me to give you this." Setting down the broth that they had all probably eaten for the day on the rock, Stark then stood there for another moment, as though unsure of whether to continue or leave, "Actually," He said, clearly deciding to stay, "I volunteered. I wanted to talk to you."

Loki turned back to face the stream, "I am not in the mood." Unfortunately, his obvious signal for Stark to leave was instead taken as an invitation to sit. And right now, as wrung out as he was after the past three hours out here alone, he didn't have the willpower to actually tell him or to physically make him go.

"Yeah, no, I get that. It's kinda why I wanted to talk you, really."

"Oh of course." Loki bit down on the inside of his cheeks, "The perfect opportunity to talk about my Mother and her magic, I suppose."

Stark didn't look at him, and instead just looked out at the stream as well, "I'm not that heartless."

"You assume that I care about this news then."

" _Y_ ou wouldn't have been out here for about half of the afternoon, if you didn't." Hm. Perhaps ignoring him would work then, "Look. I just - wanted to say that I get it."

"Do you." Or being dry could work just as well.

"Yeah. I do." Now. He looked at him. "You probably know all this already, from everything that happened in New York, and from all the info you got on us but - my parents died when I was 21." Yes, he did know. Barton told him when he'd questioned over each 'Avenger'. "I didn't really care much about my dad, to be honest, I mean it _hurt_ obviously, but it was my Mom that really kicked. So I - "

"If you say that you 'understand', I will push you into that stream."

"Okay." Stark shrugged lightly, sitting back a little on the rock, and picking the broth back up, "Would you at least eat this, though? The smell's getting to me." Loki looked at him for a few seconds, making his annoyance clear, before finally taking it and sipping slowly from the rim. It was already a little cold. "So - !"

"Who really asked you to come out here and get me, Stark?"

He blinked, "No one. I volunteered to bring the soup, I told you." It was broth, moron.

" _Why_?"

"Because." He shrugged again, tapping a beat on his knee with his knuckles, "I wanted to give you a bro-talk."

Loki paused in a sip, "A _what_?"

"A bro-talk." Stark smiled at him, lifting an arm to gently punch at Loki's shoulder for some odd reason, "You know, when two guys talk about feelings. Or, in this case, how to get a lack of them." Loki didn't even bother saying anything but Stark looked a little sheepish anyway - though his unnerving openly-soft-face didn't even fall, "It's a ... Earth thing. I guess." There was a pause between them again and Loki considered getting up himself and returning to his assigned tent, "Okay, look, the real reason that I'm here is because, well. I kinda thought that you would _explode_ , or something. Once you heard. Or - do something destructive, and stuff. Maybe even kill?" Loki glanced at him sharply, and he raised both hands, "just going by what I've seen of you. But," He looked at Loki then, fully, "You didn't. You just - went and sat alone for all this time."

Well he had exploded - inwardly - but that was not what he meant. Not really. "So you felt sorry for me, then, and decided to come out and 'cheer' me back on my feet?"

"No. I _did_ feel sorry, yeah, but I came out here because I know that losing a parent that you love hurts. Like," He laughed a little, nervously, " _Really_ hurts. And from what your mother told me about you and her, during your childhood? Well, uh, you. The way she spoke about you?" He took a breath, running a hand through his hair, "She really loved you, you know." There could have been a comment there, a harsh one that would have probably been deserved, and the fact that Stark clearly kept one back made the weight on Loki's shoulders just that tiny bit lighter.

And he did know. Of her love. In a way, it had always been her downfall - in so many situations. It was really why he would miss her so much. She'd been one of the few who still _had_ loved, after everything he'd done.

"I know." He then answered quietly, not even noticing that he'd spoken until he realized his lips were still parted from the words. He swallowed then, taking a long breath in, and silence enveloped them both for a good while.

"Okay." Stark stood, taking the empty bowl out from Loki's frozen hands, "I'll just - take this back, then. See ya." Loki watched him leave, the annoyance that he had felt at first now almost nonexistent and in some strange way, that little talk had actually helped. But now. Alone again, his thoughts returned to everything dark all over again and he chewed on the tip of his tongue in thought; the taste of the broth still lingering in his throat.

Something, somewhere, had started all of this. Had caused the hall to collapse, had caused Asgard to fall and had caused Vanaheim to now be crawling with creatures that should have no right to be here. Something had done this. Some _thing_. And he will find out what.

He will find it.

And he _will_. He _will_ destroy it.

 

**_~_ **

* * *

 

**_~_ **

 

"Ah. So the valiant God returns." Mirith sat on the cloth that she was currently embroidering, looking up just once as he entered the tent, before glancing back down at her work. At first glance, it looked simply decorative, but at another it was clear that she was pouring her magic into each bead to protect the wearer of the robe that she was creating. "Come. Sit." He did. "Where is your Midgardian companion? I'd assumed he would be with you."

"No." He picked at a bead apart from the rest and rolled it between finger and thumb, "Thank you, though. For the broth."

She snorted, pulling at thread, "Mm. It would have been warm if the Jotun Prince had not _stirred_ at it." No love lost there then, obviously. "What it is you are after, Loki? Why come to my tent?"

"I'd heard this was where to come for weapons. I wish to make some."

"I can provide, but not create I'm afraid. The dwarves would be more help there, as you probably already know. What else did you wish for?"

Hm. "Answers. I suppose." She bit the thread in half with her front-teeth, looking at him from under her lashes; inviting him on, "This band that you have here. What is it you plan on doing, exactly? Why are you here?"

"We are joined only because it is us few that remember the realms as being different than they are now. We plan to look for others, decipher the prophecy and discover what use the Midgardian has in restoring our homes and worlds to their rightful ways." Well. At least there are finally _some_ answers now.

"And you truly believe that he could possibly have some part in this?"

"Well," She dabbed the end of the thread into her mouth, twisting through a hole, "If he cannot, we shall simply have to find another way. The realms cannot stay the way they are, Loki, and something _must_ be done. Whether by following a prophecy or through some other means, it will be." She seemed so confident, it almost made him either sick or inspired himself.

"And lastly?" She then asked, and he had to smile, "What else did you want?"

Inhaling slowly, he leant back on his arms, "Some comfort? Perhaps?" Though light-hearted, he knew that she could see just how much he actually meant what he'd said, and his opinion of her solidified when she immediately laid down the cloth and returned his smile.

"I was sorry to hear of your mother. She was a kind woman, I've heard."

"She was. But if you don't mind, I would really rather a distraction from her ... memory." Lowering her eyes, Mirith's smile softened and she tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, standing up slowly and holding a hand out to help Loki to his feet as well.

"Then distract you," She murmured, her hands reaching around his neck in a way no one really has in so long a while, and perhaps he should thank Stark for that. She would never have done this if she didn't believe that they were 'companions'. "I shall." His shirt fell from his shoulders when a knife that he hadn't even noticed slit the clasps right off of it, and he pulled at hers to do the same.

The candles were blown out eventually and grief went far out from his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite the nights turn, Frigga slowly returned to Loki's mind still and he couldn't manage to expel her from it. Mirith lay beside him, spent and asleep, and the nightlife of the forest stirred around them all as they rested. He could see his mother's face in his head, stroking down his cheek, smiling at another achievement in his skills, and his eyes stung at each and every memory as the heat within his stomach then froze entirely.

He rolled over once, his back now to Mirith and to the tent's entrance, and he traced every shadow with his eyes on the surface of the material - watching as the Vanir on watch paced past them all with a sword against his shoulder. Staying awake helped, as he still didn't trust any of these people anyway, but sleep would also bring comfort.

Or, alternatively, more memories of his mother. And he didn't think he could handle that right now.

Unfortunately, his mind seemed to disagree as no sooner had he become determined to stay awake, his eyelids began to droop and the arm around his waist turned heavier than it had been before. He was just falling asleep, after a few more minutes of drowsiness, when a sharp sound split into the silence of the camp loud enough to send the birds into flight and jolt him from the bed.

A scream; one that was loud, in pain, and very close-by. It only took a second for him to recognize it and when he did, he reacted by walking toward the flap of the tent.

Stark.

.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Loki/Mirith will not be forever, to any that are put off by it :)


	25. This is your reason for life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
> **I would take you away from here, if it were in my power.**

* * *

 

It only took a little while longer for the quarter of the camp nearest to Stark's tent to wake and make a grab for their weapons. Mirith stood immediately beside Loki, pulling a robe on over her naked body and unsheathing her sword before rushing out without even a glance back at him. Loki took a single dagger, himself, and shouldered his way through the flap of the tent and outside into the chill of night - half unsure of why he was even bothering.

Candles covered Stark's tent from those holding them and he could clearly see Eira standing huddled under her blankets at the entrance. Mirith barged her way in without any hesitation or announcement - and Loki joined her with only a little curiosity now that no one was actually doing anything. Must not be so important then.

He slowly stepped around the cloth-made bed, looking down at Stark to see what was wrong, only to find him -

Asleep.

Well. His face was scrunched and distressed, with sweat pooled around him and his hands clenched into the blankets, but he was still a _sleep_. He didn't even repress the need to scoff.

" _Enomiaryr.*_ " Mirith gently ran her hands over Stark's forehead, and eventually, through her words the screaming subsided and Stark squinted his eyes open; visibly shaking.

* ( _En-nom-ee-eye-rare_ )

"A _dream_?" Loki looked up at the voice with his own amusement evident, and saw another of the dwarves standing in the entrance to the tent, "The mortal _woke_ us all, over a _dream_ of his?" Stark, still breathing heavily with wide eyes, stared at him as though he couldn't understand what had just happened at all, let alone apologize for it.

"Tell everyone to return to bed, Grenyr. I will deal with this." Mirith answered, her eyes still on Stark and nothing else. There were more grumbles from outside, but other than that, no one else complained and the crowd vanished. Hm. Power was obviously not as distributed as equally here as Loki had thought. "Mortal? Anthony Stark?"

Stark looked at her then, his eyes darting over as he tried to control his breathing; realizing that what he had just seen in his mind wasn't real, "I - "

"It is alright. We all of us have suffered from dreams like this, before." Loki scoffed again, sitting back and leaning on his hands, ignoring the look that she gave him, "Now, tell me. What did you see?"

Perhaps it was her own magic that entranced him, or perhaps he was still in the mind of his dream, but Stark shook his head - jerking back, "No, I - it's fine. I'm fine." He took a breath, calming himself, "I'm sorry. You know, for - waking people, but I'd really rather not."

"Telling another of it will help. Would you rather speak with Loki?"

" _No_." They both protested at the same time and she raised an eyebrow at that, smiling down at Stark who glanced away, "I'm fine. I told you." Pushing himself up with his hands, he sat and tucked his chin over his knees, "Just go on back to sleep, Miral. Unless you'd rather stay here, with me."

"Mirith." She corrected, without venom, and Loki rolled his eyes a second time now; actually intent on getting up and leaving anyway when she suddenly reached forward and cupped Stark's face between her hands, making him start in surprise, "And I am sorry, Anthony Stark, but what you saw may be important."

"What I _saw_ \- ?" He ducked out of her grip, clasping his own hands around her wrists, "What I saw was a _nightmare_. In case you need to remember, I'm from _Earth_. I don't have all that freaky-do things that you all have and I'd rather you don't go fishing around in my mind. Okay?" All gentleness gone from her face, Mirith nodded coolly, yanking back her hands, "Now. I'm sorry, _again_ , for waking you all up. Won't happen again. But can you get out now?"

"I would love to hear of your dream first."

Dropping his head back with a sigh, Stark looked at Loki, as though for help. All he received, though, was an almost amused half-smile. Which, though he was still a little tired, was welcoming after the feelings that he had been repressing all night before, " _Why_?"

"Dreams are tools of knowledge, Anthony Stark. To know what one means, is to know what your mind is trying to tell you."

"Great." Stark smiled at her, sarcastically, "So my mind's trying to tell me I'm going to burn alive? Nice. And enough with the Anthony Stark thing. It's Tony. Okay? To- _ny_."

"I can see that this dream has affected you."

"You're the one affecting me." Very mature. 

"Stark, just tell her, will you. Some of us would like to sleep tonight." Loki yawned behind a hand to make the point but all Stark gave him was an uninterested look before glaring back at Mirith.

"Fine." He spat, his voice icily pleasant as he recites his dream, "I was standing in my home and everything was burning around me. I could see people dead, everywhere, and others were being swallowed up by the same _void_ -thing that had happened in Asgard." He bit his lip for a second, releasing it to speak some more, And then - the fire reached me and I couldn't escape. So I burnt to death." He shrugged. "Hence the screaming. Happy now?" Mirith said nothing, so Stark continued to mock, "So, what does it all _mean_ , then, O wise elf? Are _bad_ things going to happen to me? Oh _no_. How could I _deal_ with that after this week's been such a _breeze_ for me?"

Mirith exhaled slowly with a smile, "You will mind your tongue, To- _ny_. You may be written in prophecy but that does not give you the right to disrespect me."

Stark only raised his eyebrows, mouthing something to himself before gesturing they get out, "Well now that we're done here, can you go?" He stretched, the blankets sliding down to show that he had been sleeping without his shirt on, "I'd kind of like to - " He froze, glancing down just the once. Mirith inhaled sharply at what they all saw but that was the only reaction from either of them. Loki stared himself, remembering what Stark had said had happened in his dream, only having been half-listening to it, and he almost reached across to touch -

"Wh - ?" Stark snapped his head up, meeting Loki's eyes, not even bothering to hide the fear in them before he skimmed a hand down to try and see if it was _real_ , " _Ah_ , God -" He grit his teeth, "How - ?"

Mirith reached forward herself, touching the burns over Stark's torso gently, and he swallowed, his stomach sucking in as he touch lowered before she pulled it away, "They are there." She breathed. "Not illusions."

Stark swallowed, staring at her, "But it was - just a _dream_." He looked between them, looking for answers. 

No. Loki continued to stare at the reddened burns on Stark's skin, the real reason that he had been screaming.

It wasn't.

 

**_~_ **

* * *

**_~_ **

 

"How is he?"

Morning had come soon after Stark had been examined by another Scribe, one that Loki had not met before and who refused to give her name. She'd merely tutted and looked and sighed before declaring that the burns would not be infected and that they must had been inflicted by a strong fire of some sort. One that had not been near any of them last night. Unless one of those in the camp had decided to come and burn Stark in his sleep. One would think that he would have woken if that were the case, however.

Loki had been thrown from the tent, gladly so, and he had taken to walking and thinking around the camp's grounds. A dream of fire. And then finding burns on his body. What else was going to happen to them all? Will the ocean begin to rise through the mud and engulf them all? Would every plague in life follow them and take their turn in reaping hell onto each of them?

Eventually he had simply sat in the same seat that he had sat in the previous day, and he looked through the gaps in the tents to see what any of the others were doing. Býleistr stood with his own kind, talking and gesturing, the iced symbols on his head telling of his heritage. They stayed where the breeze was the coolest, hateful of this sunny weather. He wasn't too fond of it himself, and he knew why.

He had been lost in thoughts of Odin and adoption, when the question had been asked, and he'd startled into looking up. Valkir looked down at him from where he stood, only a little taller from how Loki was sat and hunched. "Who?" He automatically asked back, though he knew he was asking of Stark.

Valkir sat beside him, "The mortal." Loki looked back through the tents at Stark's. He had been put to sleep while they'd examined him, cursing and protesting, but Mirith's magic had been successful in binding him a second time and he'd had no choice but to succumb. He would likely not be very happy when he awoke.

"Sleeping." It wasn't exactly an answer but that was all he really knew anyway. And despite having wanted Stark dead for so long before, right now he wished that he wouldn't. He would really rather not be left alone with these _people_.

"Hm. Good." Loki glanced at him, sidelong, but said nothing else, "And you?" Oh wonderful. "I am sorry. For your mother."

"So am I." He replied, curtly, the murderous anger that he had felt yesterday now building up all over again, "But what's done is done."

Valkir leant back, looking surprised, "Indeed." He looked at the sky then, "I suppose she would want you to continue with your life."

Loki scoffed. He knew she would certainly wish that, but what _life_? Even without all of this happening, what - if anything - did he truly have? "Yes, of course. The life of all these dying realms."

"Hah! Yes, well, Vanaheim does not seem to be as defeated as the others, does it."

"No." Loki agreed, "Only crawling with Trolls. Nothing to worry over." His back was clapped as Valkir laughed at his words, and he grit his teeth, ignoring how it reminded him of Thor's own humoured gestures.

"Aye. But it is better than the others, is what I am saying." Mm. Loki stood now, intent on walking away, but his arm was grabbed before he could, "You would do well to find allies in this band, Loki. Your name is not a popular omen here, and any branch of friendship should be welcomed."

What?

It sounded a threat. But - it wasn't. He was sure it wasn't. Actually, he wasn't quite sure _what_ it was, but all he did know was that his face was open to emotion right now and he _openly_ frowned his confusion, " _What_?" Valkir simply let go of his arm, however, and smiled. And just like that, the serious words had turned back to jest. It took only a second for Loki to understand why and as soon as he did, Mirith's voice sounded on cue.

"Loki." He turned, a smile she probably wouldn't believe but wouldn't care anyhow, on his face, "The mortal is awake. He asked for you." Really?

The twitch in her left eye was probably a hint as to how 'disrespectful' Stark had been when he'd woken, and he could only imagine what he would want to talk to _him_ about.

Still. It was better than staying here. Everyone in this camp had some vendetta, good or bad, and he was growing immensely tired with it all. A conversation with Stark would hopefully make a refreshing change.

**_~_ **

* * *

**_~_ **

 

Bandaged and given salve, Stark sat on the cloths of his tent with his fingers pulling the material from his skin so that he could see the damage for himself. Loki entered silently and cleared his throat only to make him jump. "You came." It was almost a question.

Loki sat a few feet away, "You thought I would not?"

"Well, yeah, it's you." Stark sighed, running a hand through his hair, "But anyway. You came, so - good. I wanted to talk to someone. Well, someone _other_ than ... " He made a face, and Loki understood it completely. Other than Mirith, he had yet to find someone that he did not find strange or non-likeable at first glance, in this camp. "I just - want you to do something for me. It's - _weird_ , and I kinda don't really want you to anyway, but I need you to."

Loki raised an eyebrow, "Is this a proposition Stark?"

He blanched, half in jest, "What? No! I - " He noticed Loki's smile. "Shut up. Look, I just want you to scan me, okay. Or - whatever it is your 'magic' can do." _Ah_. "Just something to find out whatever the hell it is that's happened to me. Because as far as I know, nightmares don't usually leave marks, unless they're of the Freddy Krueger variety, so I would really like to know _how_ this is fucking happening. And _why_ it's still hurting." He pressed the bandages back, wincing, and looking expectantly at Loki.

Waiting for him to use his magic.

This was a problem, then. Well. He could always _refuse_. It wouldn't be out of his character to do so, but that might seem a little too suspicious as well. And also, more importantly, here was Stark giving him his _trust_ for this one little task. That could come in handy in the future, especially if he complied. But he couldn't.

Stark cocked his head at him, " _Can_ you scan things?"

"I'm thinking." He snapped.

"Okay. Got it."

Well. He couldn't do anything right now, but ... Stark didn't need to know that, did he. Loki shrugged, ignoring the sting in the back of his mind that reminded him of his mother, but he knew that there was nothing seriously wrong with Stark anyway. With or without his magic, he would be able to see that. Hopefully, Stark wouldn't dream he was being impaled any time soon though. He was the only reason they had these allies right now.

He lifted his arms from his sides and Stark stiffened automatically in response. He paused. "You asked for this, Stark."

"Yeah, I know, so _do_ it." Loki pointedly looked at how his hands had clenched over his legs, "Just a little nervous, seeing as the last time you had your hands on me, you _broke_ my arc reactor." Oh yes. Guilt wasn't anything new for Loki, but it still wasn't such a pleasant feeling. He shoved it back, however, _hating_ how he now had so many memories of his mother linked with Stark.

Placing his hands on either side of Stark's face, just as Mirith had done last night, he did nothing else afterwards and Stark gradually relaxed. "So what do you do now?"

"Shush." Stark blinked at the force of Loki's whisper, his lips pressed together to suppress his laugh, but Loki ignored it; closing his eyes and pretending that he was actually doing something. Some part of him did call on his magic anyway, however, but  _still_ nothing happened. And though that was becoming usual for him, it still brought a sharp pang of loss with it.

Another thing he had to solve.

He pushed back from Stark's face after a minute or so, still sitting where he was and looked him over, "Nothing."

"Really?" Stark frowned, glancing down, "What not even a 'curse' or anything?"

"None that I could feel." Loki lied softly, seeing a pot of almost-cold-stew beside Stark that he clearly wasn't going to eat any time soon. Without asking, he took the bowl and began to eat it himself.

"But - I don't get it. What's _wrong_ with me, then? What if I dream about this again, but I don't wake _up_ that time? What if I - "

"I haven't the answers Stark. Perhaps simply not _sleeping_ will help until you find a solution." Stark met his gaze, his face pinched with the same look of distress he'd had when he'd been dreaming. Without the screaming, it was a little nicer to look at.

"Yeah right. Thanks for the help." He muttered, putting his head in his hands for just a second before obviously remembering who was sitting near him.

"You're welcome." Loki parried, standing up and walking out with the stew.

"Wait. That's _mine_!" Stark called after him.

"Not anymore."

 

**_~_ **

* * *

**_~_ **

 

Mirith was in her tent again when Loki went looking for her, but she refused to lay with him tonight - tired from the days events. Loki agreed himself anyway, and they lay on the cloth beside each other; their thoughts clouding anything else.

"I told Stark not to sleep." He informed her and she nodded, her lips pouted as she puzzled it all over. "What do you know of what happened?"

She sighed, annoyed that she'd no answers, "I have not _ever_ seen that happen to one that is not cursed. And he is not. Eira, the scribe, attested that." So he was not cursed then. What _was_ it, if not that? "I don't understand it. I don't understand _any_ of what is happening." She pressed her lips together for a moment. "I wish it would all stop."

Loki rolled onto his side, looking at her, "Do you have family?"

"No." She rolled to face him as well, "I'd a brother. He almost fell through the void, but was speared by a Jotun when he caught himself in time." Was that where her hatred had spawned then, or had she always hated those from Joteinheimr?

"If the King is not alive, then that would be the same for me also." Loki murmured back,"With my mother now - " He stopped, sighing, and rolling his shoulders against the cloth. Well. There was Býleistr, of course. If he even counted, in Loki's mind. But then. Thor and Odin never really had either.

Mirith dozed not long after their talk, though. Not that he would converse that with her right now, anyway. Loki watched as her hair fell from her bare shoulders to pool by her lips as she turned in sleep and he closed his own eyes eventually, refusing to think of Stark - alone in his tent and trying hard to stay awake for fear of dying tonight.

Sleep took him soon as well.

 

* * *

 

 

_It was dark in the hallways of Asgard. Night had fallen long ago but Loki had always loved to roam the palace after it was emptied, if only to see what he could get up to when there was no one around to stop him._

_Sometimes he would climb down the stairs to see the blue box that he was so awed by, but Odin had forbidden it now and he couldn't disobey him. Especially not tonight, as he was already in a lot of trouble as it was. Frigga would be kind however. Mother always was, and she would keep him company for now, if there was nothing else that he could think of, for him to do._

_She was awake, however, when he went to find her and wasn't in her room but in the library. Odd._

_"Mother?" He knocked, once, on the open door and ran inside quickly just in case she said 'no'. Then it would be too late anyway and she'd have no choice but to let him stay. It always worked. She turned when he entered, her long hair tied back in a way that she only kept it when she was going to bed, "Are you alright? Why aren't you in bed?"_

_She smiled when she saw that it was him, lifting him by his waist and sitting him on the table. "The_ question _, Loki," She murmured, tapping his nose, "Is why are_ you _not in bed?" He grinned, dodging her finger before he caught sight of the blood on her wrist._

_"Mother! There's blood!" She let him grab at her hand, gently touching the cut through her arm, but she didn't look worried._

_"It's alright, Loki. It is a special wound." What? He frowned at her, worried, and upset despite the lack of those emotions on her won face, "It is a_ part _of being a seer."_

_"I don't understand."_

_Leaning closer, her hair fell from her bun and trailed down her shoulders to tickle at his cheeks, "A very rare occurrence for a seer, Loki, is sometimes for their visions to harm them even when they have awoken. There are few this happens to, though, and_ I, _" She showed him the cut again, and with a light touch of her magic, it was healed, "Am one of them."_

-

With a sound of a drowning man gasping in his first gallon of air, Loki sat up from the bed; thankfully not waking Mirith, and thankfully not being any louder than he had already been.

The dream he'd - no. The _memory_ still fresh in his mind, he stood, running a hand through his damp hair.

His breathing was ragged as he retraced it through his mind and for some reason, all he could remember was Mirith's words from before. Of how dreams were a way of the mind telling us what we needed to know.

Well his had.

And all he needed to do now, was understand it completely.

.


	26. Change doesn't always have to be good. But it isn't always bad either.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The stars are dancing, Peter, look! They're so pretty up there, so knowledgeable! I wish I was a star sometimes.**
> 
> **_You'd be the cleverest there is._ **

* * *

 

Stark was awake when Loki entered the tent - propped up against pillows and leaning on the table while he scrawled out something on a bit of paper with some charcoal that someone must have given him - and he started when he heard him come inside, "What's happened?" He demanded, automatically assuming that something was wrong; because when was it not? "Has the shaking come back?"

Loki didn't answer him and instead pushed the table aside with the back of his hand, ignoring Stark's protests, and shoved him down over the cloth; lifting his shirt up to see the bandages, "Hey! What the _hell is_ \- _ow_ \- " Ripping the bandages from his skin, Loki's hands splayed over the areas where the burns had been, his eyes narrowed and urgent. Stark sucked in a breath, staring up at him shocked, and he looked down as well.

The burns were gone. Healed.

Loki pushed off of him, strips of the bandages still in his hands and he clenched his fingers around them. Stark sat up slowly, pulling his shirt down warily, "What the hell was that about? Did you - just heal them, or something?" Loki chose to let some silence take over instead, still thinking, breathing as heavily as he had been since he'd woken. "Loki?"

"My Mother." He finally said, half-talking to himself, "She was a seer - Vanir as she was. And sometimes, if - she saw a vision of hers, and she was harmed within it, it would show on her skin when she'd woken. It would heal, though, soon after. Whether by her hand or by it's own."

Stark edged a little further away, frowning, "What are you saying?"

"What do you think?" He snapped, his gaze on Stark's chest - where the burns had marked his skin only the other night. "It seems that I am not the only one who has been less than _honest_ , during our arrangement."

" _What_?" Stark spat, glaring, "You think I knew about this?" He shook his head sharply, "It - assuming that it's even _real_? That salve they gave me could have healed this, if it was so _magic_ or whatever. So - "

"And how would you explain your dream then?" Why is it they always seemed to incite anger with each other?

"It was just a nightmare." Stark countered icily, "Ever since your visit to Earth, I've had quite a few of those, thanks."

Loki sighed, running a hand down his face, calming now after his own stirring dream, "I know what you it is are Stark. Whether you believe it yourself or not. Seers are - "

"No. Shut up. Look, the only thing extraordinary about me, Loki, is that I'm a genius and extremely good-looking. Anything else and the Mutants on Earth would have picked me up a long time ago. So whatever you think, you're _wrong_." He'd forgotten how infuriating he could be. "Now get the hell out. I'm trying _not_ to sleep tonight, and your voice is exhausting me on it's own."

"Not until I wring the truth from you."

"Are we seriously doing this again?" Stark narrowed his eyes in disbelief, his eyes dark, "Didn't you get enough of it last time, when you almost _crushed_ me?"

Well.

Loki grit his teeth, his hands clenching at the same time, and without another word he stood and strode over toward the flap of the tent. This was what came of talking first.

"Wait?"

He almost didn't. Almost wanted to leave as angrily as he felt right now, no matter how much he didn't have the right to be so, but Stark's quiet question was reward enough. A stab at pride, that it must be. "... are you - _sure_?"

Loki turned to look at him.

"You're not just being a dick? Lying to me?"

"Being a seer is not a curse. What would the point be?"

"Except the fact that every seer is going _insane_ , apparently? _Remember_." No, actually, he didn't. That was a little stupid of him. "So what does it mean?"

"It means you can tell the future, Stark." Loki stepped forward again now, closing the flap after checking - just once - that no one else was listening to their conversation.

"It can't be that simple."

"It's not, no." He sighed, scratching at an itch near his neck while he thought, "You believe me then, I take it?"

"No." Stark muttered immediately, before pausing, "But it makes sense. A little. And right now, I'll take that." He sucked in a breath, thinking, his eyes darting everywhere for a moment, "So what does it mean, then? For me?"

Loki sat again, actually curious of that himself. Frigga _must_ have known, or she would not have spoken to Stark alone in Asgard, "I do not know."

Stark snapped his head up suddenly, his eyes wide, "Wait. What's the timeframe usually like?"

Loki frowned, "Timeframe?"

"Yeah, like how long does it take for a vision to come true?"

Loki leant back, stretching his legs before him, "Not all do. And it is never certain how long it would take."

"So ... " He bit into his lip, "Earth could be _okay_ , then?"

Loki smiled, "A second ago you did not even believe you had this power." Stark's shoulders twitched and he hunched over himself, the blankets bunched by his knees. Loki cocked his head at him, interested, "Does magic really bother you so much?"

"I don't like things I can't control." Well that was understandable. And a little flattering, if one attuned to Loki's more impulsive nature. "Can I control _this_?"

"Perhaps."

"God." Stark tugged at his hair, looking a little like he was either going to be sick, or that he was now unaware that Loki was still there, "This place is doing stuff to me all the time. I hate it." His breathing quickened and Loki tensed, looking to the side for a second in a moment of uncertainty, "How do you - do you know? For sure? That there's this thing in me?"

Loki rolled his tongue over his teeth, pondering over which answer would allow him to claim the easy way out of this conversation. "No." He settled on.

Stark looked at him, his bottom lip red from how he'd bitten into it, "Then how _do_ I found out if it is?"

 

**_~_ **

 

* * *

**_~_ **

 

Býleistr found Loki as soon as dawn came, demanding to know what it was that was happening with Stark - the precious prophecy the _peek_ of everything to everyone here. Loki pushed past him, however, declaring that he could always just ask himself _._ And good luck to both of them if he did.

Unfortunately, more suddenly crowded around him immediately afterwards, asking the same thing when he'd barely walked five feet away from the Jotun. What was he? Stark's _messenger_? Well, tables had turned clearly, but ignoring their questions didn't even, seem to work at all.

Valkir, the only one who was not so concerned as he had asked yesterday already, sat atop a crate and watched Loki with an expression that he couldn't quite see past the glare of the sun, but that was probably close to thoughtful.

Everyone here was mad.

Stark's exit from his tent scattered them all however and he paused in surprise, looking at Loki automatically, before walking toward the boy that he knew as the 'scout'. Loki didn't wait and watch the conversation and instead opted to find Mirith and see if she still had any ideas over what had 'happened' to Stark. He was still debating over whether he should tell anyone yet. After all. He could still be wrong.

"Nivaldyr!" Loki froze when he felt rather than saw Stark running past him, skidding to a halt beside a Jotun soldier, and he blinked; staring, "Have you still got that stone thing that you showed me before?"

The Jotun - Nivaldyr - looked down at him slowly, reaching into a clasp by his shoulder brace, "Aye. You have need of it, To-ny?" _Tony_. Loki narrowed his eyes, aware that he was obviously staring, but not caring the least right now. Taken prisoner by the very same creatures, and Stark befriended one of them. How very naively _typical_ of him.

Before him, Stark reached for this 'stone', taking it from the Jotun's fingers and resting his hand on it's wrist as he stood there; looking down on it.

"Can you show me the words again too?"

Loki couldn't tear his eyes away from where their skin touched, letting them sting when a breeze assaulted them. Touching. Without pain. Without burn.

"You were not so interested before."

"Yeah, well. Things have changed. So could you do it? On me?"

The Jotun nodded once, taking the stone back, his _hand_ clasping Stark's arm as he answered, "Aye. I can." Stark followed him away to sit together, passing Loki once again, and their disappearance from his vision was what awoke him from his thoughts, at last.

_This place is doing stuff to me._

Well. He wasn't half wrong.

 

**_~_ **

* * *

**_~_ **

 

Perhaps it was wrong to not tell Stark what reaction he _should_ be having when touching a Jotun's skin, but did it really matter? No. And anyway, just last night he had found out what sort of reaction Stark gave when finding out that there may or may not be magic within him, so there really wasn't any need to mention this him just yet, either.

The Jotun hadn't seemed concerned as well, though, so perhaps it was only with _that_ one. He didn't know. He didn't know anything. And he was tired of all these puzzles forming around him, pressing down on his mind with too many questions and too _few_ answers.

A step behind him alerted him to there being someone behind him.

"You were not there when I awoke." He lowered his shoulders, turning at the sound of her voice, "Did something happen?"

He shook his head, smirking at her when he saw that she had only covered herself with the robe, "Nothing." Then, if only to get into her good books, "Stark was alone."

It almost worked. She raised an eyebrow at it, but said nothing else, and took his arm with her hand - leading him toward _his_ tent, for once. He indulged, if only because he was rather in the mood anyway and because he had nothing else to do right now, however pathetic that sounded. When he entered, however, a table was set up with a map and when he knew why, he pursed his lips in disappointment.

Mirith released him when they reached it and she pointed down to where their camp was located, "We will have to move on soon, Loki. No part is safe for us to stay too long in, as you already probably know." She looked up at him then, "You have travelled in the southern regions, Ivan said. You told his father this?"

He looked down at the map, noticing the red slashes of paint that there were across certain areas. Areas that were clearly not safe anymore. "Yes."

"Then what do you know of the areas there?"

Loki looked at her briefly before gazing over the map properly, his eyes trailing over the sections that contained his little exits in-and-out-of realms. Almost all but one were slashed over, and the only one that wasn't had been the same the Jotun had dragged Stark and him through before. He pressed his thumb over it, "The Jotun band you took us from make their way through the realms here. And the arena five days from there is crawling with Trolls and Giants. A Storm giant even roams the forests there, courtesy of Stark." She dabbed a finger into a pot of crushed leaves, lifting it dripping red and spread the paint over the areas Loki had touched.

"Anything else?"

"Yes." He lowered his hand, "There is nothing left here. The realm split beneath our feet while we - " _Argued_. "Walked." She scrawled a cross there instead, nodding at him; rubbing at her head with her other, clean, hand. He frowned, "Does your head ache?"

She shrugged delicately, "No. At least, nothing unusual. I have been feeling this way for a while now. Over-use of magic, my brother used to say when I was younger." She smiled at whatever memory that conjured and he glanced away, looking down at the map again and away from her soft features. She tilted his face up, however, meeting his eyes, "You are not what I thought you were, Loki."

His lips twitched. If he gained an ounce of strength every time another said that of him, he would be strong enough to take on any army single-handedly. _Without_ his magic. "And what did you think of me?"

She laughed softly, kissing him once, "You do not want to know." And that was enough for him, right now, before he was kissing back - his heaped frustration pouring out as he held her closer. She took a hand of his from her waist, lifting it beneath her shirt and dipping backwards while he turned his head and kissed at her neck.

Her breaths turned shallow as he continued and she almost cried out when -

The tent's flap flew open, and she pulled away quickly, looking down and pulling her robe back together "Loki, you really need to - _Oh_." Of all the people. Loki shut his eyes for just a second, while Stark only paused, his lips pressed together in a mixture of amusement and discomfort, "Uh. Sorry? I didn't, um - I thought -  "

For Norn's sake. " _What_. Do you _want_ , Stark?"

He opened his mouth then, with nothing coming out, before he cleared his throat and tried again, "Just - got a question for you?"

He glanced at Mirith, a not-so-subtle gesture, and she smiled to herself, stepping out of Loki's embrace with a hand on his chest, before walking past Stark and out. He moved inside to let her out, still looking at Loki with that same expression. It was getting to be more than irritating, really.

"Get on with it then." He spat out, more annoyed now than he was before Mirith had found him. Stark, damn him, only huffed out a short laugh and mumbled something under his breath. "What?"

He looked up, reaching into his pocket, "I said you move fast." He repeated, still highly amused and Loki's glares toward him were probably only fuelling that. "But anyway. This is what I wanted to show you." The stone that he had taken from the Jotun was in his hands, and he presented it on the palm of one for Loki to see. "Take a look. It's supposed to be _grey,_ by the way."

"Fascinating." Loki rolled his eyes but looked anyway, half expecting to see some dancing trinket. Instead he saw a rock that did look grey - at first - but then, at a closer glance, was filled with soft, golden light.

"And what does that mean, exactly?" He asked, unimpressed, and Stark frowned; closing his hand over it.

"You don't know? It's supposed to detect magic. Or something."

" _Detect_ Magic?" This? This was what he had decided to interrupt him over?

"Or _something_. I don't know, Nivaldyr explained how it works but I can't remember the details. I just know the gist, and the gist is that it can tell what's magic and what's not, and how much is in there. The rock was _grey_ for me the other day. Now it's not."

"Yes, because now Nivaldyr has obviously placed some spell on it to make you think so. There are no rocks that do this, Stark."

Stark narrowed his eyes, looking down at that rock cupped in his hand, "Well I believe him. And if it's - "

"You would." That was enough to lead him to straighten his back then and he glared back.

"Look I'm sorry for interrupting your _sex_ time, because I didn't really think someone like you would even _do_ that. But -

" _Someone like me_?"

"But what if this is important? What if this is linked to the 'seer' thing?"

"You may not be one Stark, we've yet to find out."

"You seemed pretty sure about it last night." He muttered.

"Well. Until the scout returns we will not know, will we?" Stark looked at him properly then, pocketing the stone with all his amusement and anger gone. "Now get out."

"Fine. Jesus." Instead of arguing, Stark only gave him a single look and spun on his heels out of the tent. He paused once, however, as though he had another question but thought better of it and continued to walk out.

Loki turned then, with a sigh, and inhaled slowly to try and relax himself.

He was far too tense, had been since his removal from his punishment two years ago, really. And these situations and these _people_ were not really helping. His leg knocked against the table when he went to sit and he glanced back down at the map again.

Most of it was slashed in red.

Nowhere was really safe, and suddenly, he knew where this desperation and need for a prophecy to _happen_ as it should, was coming from. Hope was the best motivation, for any creature. This band was not much different. And if he ever wanted to get out of this situation, he would have to work with them to find a solution. He knew this. Because, no, the realms would not stay this way. He knew that, he could _see_ that.

So.

With a frustration growl, he grabbed the pot of paint and stormed out of his tent, heading straight for Stark's. He had _better_ be there too.

Before Loki changed his mind about doing this for him.

* * *

 


	27. And it all comes again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
>  
> 
> **The shouting! It's comes back, Stephen! You have to find them, you have to stop it!"**

 

* * *

 

 

Whatever plans that he had had in mind to show or ask Stark about, vanished from mind when he entered the tent only to find it empty. He sighed, dropping the paint pot onto the table, and turning to leave again.

Mirith was sat by the fire now, discussing something with her fellow elves and he vaguely hoped that it was not him. Well. They could discuss him in certain ways, of course, if they were flattering enough but anything else and -

No. Thinking on that only made it far more likely for him to want to listen in and work his way into the conversation and he hadn't the stomach for that right now. He would rather Mirith remained as a source of comfort and lust, rather than giving her a vindictive association; but eventually, he would probably have to assert between the two. He only hoped that Ivan was the only one that he had so incorrectly labelled before, and not that he was slowly becoming unaware of his surroundings - something that he had trained himself into being observant in since early childhood.

Stark wasn't by the fire either, though. Nor near the food. Or the Jotun. Loki chewed on his tongue, frustrated and bored of looking already, and he'd be damned if he went near the horde of _dwarves_ near the edge, but -

"He went into the forest." Loki froze, rigid only for a moment before relaxing and hiding his brief start easily. Nivaldyr stood behind him, a half bitten apple in hand. Closer now, Loki could see the small horns that barely edging from his forehead. A young adult then. "Býleistr followed him, to make certain nothing would happen."

Oh wonderful.

"Hm." Loki's fingers subconsciously twitched by his sides as he thought, still chewing aggressively on his tongue. Býleistr alone with Stark was a problem one it's own - they both knew too much about Loki and had too many reasons to share that knowledge - but why go into the forest in the first place? When so many clearly saw him as being so _important_? Selfishness or inconsideration was not something that he would have called Stark with evidence, more himself really, but perhaps in that he had also been mistaken, "Then there would be no need to follow him also, then?" He finally said, and that seemed the right thing to say, obviously, as Nivaldyr then smiled and nodded - finally leaving him alone.

_Good._

Loki immediately ducked through the tents, avoiding Mirith's stare when she looked up at a brief glimpse of his legs between the shadows, but he managed to slip past any of their gazes before reaching the edge of the camp. The forest was looming still, even in the late afternoon, but despite the days all getting darker anyway, it was still easy to see where he was going as he climbed over each branch before him.

The sun wasn't very high in the sky but he still had to shield his eyes against it's glare several times whilst looking and listening out. Býleistr with Stark was more of a problem, than _Stark_ with Býleistr was. If he revealed what he was, or - more importantly - _who_ he was, Stark would probably see it as his moral obligation, or whatever those Avengers thought, to not be able to keep quiet about it. And then the knowledge would be spread through the camp.

That they were brothers. That _he_ was the true heir.

And that cannot happen. Not if he can help it.

He didn't know how much Thor had told his Avengers of him, but if there was one thing he knew about the oaf, it was that he kept his word. No one on Midgard had the knowledge of anything about him, should they ever use it against him, but Stark and a few others had _been_ in Asgard. For days, as well. They must have heard the talk, but there had been no mention from Stark over any of it at all. So it was probably safe to assume that his true self was hidden still.

And he will _keep_ it that way. Býleistr did not have to right to reveal it and anyway, if Stark wanted to know more about magic, then it would be easy to drag him away from whatever conversation they would be -

" - can't believe you wouldn't hold a grudge over that." Ah. So they have found each other then. And so far in, as well. Loki had spent a long time looking in the camp, how long must they have been talking? "I mean if some guy wanted to wipe out the human race, which _plenty_ have wanted to actually, you can be damn sure that every generation after will fucking _hate_ that _one_ guy. So how can you even look at Loki after what he did to your people?"

Oh. This was a fine line.

Loki paused, leaning against the back of a tree as he listened - eavesdropping a more tempting notion now - until he could look through the branches of a nearer bush and finally see Stark sat over a stump of an older tree; Býleistr stood above him.

"Trust is a _strong_ word, Anthony Stark, but there are still ties between the Jotun and Loki. Ties which border my right to see him as my equal." Was that meant to be a compliment? Why would he ever want to wish that for himself?

Stark chewed on the inside of his cheeks, rolling the stone in his hands and looking down at it as he spoke, "You make it sound so easy."

"He does not help make it so." Býleistr added bitterly, playing with the hilt of his sword. "But you are companions already, are you not? Travelling together as you were."

Stark scoffed, and Loki couldn't help but agree. Whatever assumptions that they had about them were only ones that they had created themselves. Stark and he were far from companions before they had found them.

"It is understandable why you would still wish to cling to hatred. After what he did to you and your realm."

Stark looked up. "How'd you know about that?"

"Loki's isolation was his punishment. The realms all heard of it." Of course they did. "A son of _Odin_ being punished like that was news that no one would not want to talk about."

Stark narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, "What _kind_ of punishment? I mean. Thor told me that he'd been locked up but that's all I really got out of him."

"What we were told was only that he was exiled. Banished to an isolated plain, without food, nor water. Nothing there for him but heat."

And yet, compared to life in Asgard, it had been so much more preferred.

Glancing away at that, Stark looked back down at the stone and didn't even react to that knowledge at all. That damned stone seemed to be so important to him still. "I've - " He started, before pausing and glaring up at the sky for a second, "I've been so used to hating him." He then blurted angrily, "I still do, don't get me wrong. In some ways, I still have this _loathing_ for him. I _should_. After everything he's done, to me and mine, and at how he's not even _sorry_ about it all either? But - " He sighed, clenching his hand around the rock, "But I keep seeing different sides to him now too, and most of them aren't even _nice_ ones, but hating him's getting harder. It's twisting everything around, and I fucking _hate_ how everything's getting so skewed out here. It's all changing, so fast, and _I'm_ changing, and he - " He stopped, gritting his teeth, aware that he had probably let out more than he had meant to.

"He does not help." Býleistr finished for him, sitting beside him now and looking up at the sky as well.

Stark glanced at him, "Look. I'm going to be blunt here, okay, so sorry. But you've got to know." Býleistr looked at him, actually listening, "The _only_ thing that I care about right now is _my_ world. Okay, _Earth_. I get that everyone's looking to me now, for - for _something_ , but I don't even know if I can do anything. I'm a builder first, and a hero second. And neither of them of them are going to be much good in this. I don't even _know_ what's going on most of the time, let alone help. I just want to get back home, that's all I want. I can't help you all like this."

Well. That was all new to hear.

Despite being someone that Stark had known for far longer, this was the first that he had heard of such doubts and worries, and it wasn't even being said to him but to a Jotun. A Jotun that Stark barely knows - and ignoring any of the reasons over _why_ Loki would not be trusted - it was a little insulting, actually.

Understandable, in another way, though. Stark would have no other reason to confer in him, only because whenever he _had_ the reaction had mostly been the same. Mockery. Or anger. So why bother trying again.

Still. This information could be useful. If he was to find out more about where this _magic_ was coming from, and how Stark was to be involved in this mess, then feeding on Stark's doubts and maybe even using some subtle comfort may even work in his favour.

"Help appears in different ways Anthony Stark. You will perhaps find a way to help yourself, through talents that you have. Old or new."

Stark smiled at that, as though smothering a laugh, though it was still sincere in some way, "You know there's this character in a book? Lord the Rings, you probably haven't heard of it, but I swear Gandalf might have actually been based on - " The wind drowned out the rest of his words, pulling leaves from the trees and drawing attention to the fact that there was no sound at all.

Every bird, every animal in this forest, was suddenly utterly silent. Stark and Býleistr noticed it as soon as he did, and they looked at the trees as one. "What - ?"

A deep-throated growl broke the silence, sending unwilling chills through Loki's back.

Býleistr stood immediately, his large head eclipsing the last of the setting sun as it lowered past the trees, and he unsheathed his sword. Loki took a step back himself, taking three of Mirith's knifes to place them between his fingers and narrowing his eyes to try and catch a glimpse of just _what_ that had been. Another growl sounded, closer this time, as though it was right -

" _Watch it_!"

Something burst through the trees with it's teeth bared. Some large, blackened shape, hurtling from out of the bushes and colliding right into Býleistr - bringing the Jotun down so easily, he may as well have been a blade of grass. The first thing that crossed Loki's mind was immediately _Fenrir_ but that couldn't be right. It couldn't be.

But then. When the creature turned it's gaze to the sky to howl for more it's pack, the look of it was entirely different to his son. It was slicked back with some tar-like liquid, dripping off of it as it sat over Býleistr's body, it's teeth bared and red-eyes glaring before it reached down to take a bite.

Stark swung the branch that he'd found with both arms, catching the mutt under it's stomach which at least interrupted it's attempt at feeding, but did nothing much else besides only make it angry. It looked at Stark over it's shoulder, climbing off of Býleistr to attack him now instead.

Loki watched as Stark backed away - staring at what could likely be his death and holding onto the only weapon he had up, ready to fight -

Another of them tore through the bushes, jumping over a ditch to land directly next to it's friend. Stark leapt back, his eyes wide and knees almost buckled when the ground shook, " _Shit_ \- " Breathing heavily, he glanced to the side as Býleistr finally began to get up, no longer as dazed as he had probably been before. "Uh. Little help here ... ?"

Loki clenched his empty hand, aiming a knife of his own now - where, hidden from sight - it would probably hit it's mark a lot easier than if he'd been seen. He barely managed to move however, before a gust of breath hit the back of his neck, and he froze.

Right.

His heart practically stopped beating as he stayed utterly still, sliding his eyes so slowly to the left to catch the thing's reflection in the knife that he still had held up. It was barely an inch behind him, as far as he could tell. At least, it's nose was. Hel. Shutting his eyes for a second, his chest clenching, he braced himself. To either die. Or live.

As soon as the  _thing_ growled again, he leapt upward, grabbing a hold of the furtherest branch that he could and shoving his knife down as it passed under him - dodging it as it tried to catch one of his legs before he could curl them in. It lunged at the tree then, knocking it sideways, and barely another knock afterward had it falling from it's torn roots. "Oh - " Býleistr ran forwards, catching the edge of the tree and shoving Stark out of the way quickly; screaming his pain out when one of the mutts dug it's teeth into his shoulder - refusing to let go.

Stark jammed his branch into it's eye, grabbing Býleistr's fallen sword to make it a little more effective, before Loki jumped from where he had landed and pierced it's hide with his second knife. It released Býleistr and retreated, growling at all three of them.

The third of them was crouched to their left, and it didn't take long for the other two to recover from their wounds - joining it as well and barring them down.

"When the hell did _you_ get here?" Stark asked, out-of-breath and winded. Loki didn't answer, but a single look from Býleistr as he held his bleeding arm told him that at least _one_ had guessed how long he'd been here at least.

The fallen tree had now blocked their only safe path out of this clearing. Loki just managed to look around it's bark quickly, to try and see another way out, before three more of these mutts lunged out of the shadows and surrounded them. How many _were_ there?

Light was slowly diminishing. The sun going down still. When it was completely dark, they wouldn't stand a chance.

"Anyone got a plan?" Stark asked, swearing loudly when one of the mutts came closer - swiping it's paw toward him, " _Quickly_?"

"We get _you_ safe." Býleistr grunted, grinding his teeth through the pain.

Stark gave him a look, "Your plan sucks. I was talking strategy."

"I suggest Býleistr distracts them and I head for the trees." Loki muttered, his eyes on the middle mutt, watching as it's hair darkened as the sun's light continued to vanish, "You may follow if you wish."

"Very well." Býleistr agreed without any hesitation at all, leaning against the tree to right himself. Loki blinked.

Stark, alternatively, stared at him, "Are you serious, you're _injured_ already. Ignore Loki, he's a fucking prick. _I've_ got a plan, okay, and my _plan_ is - " He was pushed backward and barely caught himself on the tree, " _No - don't!_ "

Ignoring Stark's shouts, Býleistr tore away and charged at the mutts, stumbling already as one of them attacked immediately. "God, what are you _doing_ \- ?!"

"Leave!" He bellowed over his shoulder, forming ice from his other arm and plunging it into a mutt before it could do the same to him with it's claws, " _Now_!"

Torches shone in the dark then, too far away to be any use, but clearly the others in the camp were searching for them now. Perhaps even having heard the shouts and growls from where they were. Loki grabbed Stark under the arm, hauling him backward quickly - heading away from here. Or he would have been, did his companion not struggle so much in the other direction. "Get _off of_ me! We can't just leave him here like that, you - !"

"Then _stay_!" Loki snarled, letting him go angrily, and Stark immediately ran to Býleistr's defence. The Jotun was on the ground now, two mutts over his body. He could already be _dead_ anyway. Loki could see his blood, could hear these creature's growing and their howls. Could smell the faint tinge of future death in the air - 

 _Damn this all._ He punched the fallen tree, hard, and skid over the mud toward Stark, flinging another of his knifes at the first mutt that turned it's gaze on him. Stark shoved himself into those that were over Býleistr but they turned on him then, snapping at the sword that he held before him; clumsy with it's weight but dangerous nonetheless. Loki had learnt that himself, what seemed like an age ago.

Býleistr still did not move.

With no knifes now, Loki darted his eyes everywhere and found one that he had hit already. Propelling himself over it, he grabbed at his knife and -

And it slipped _right through his fingers._ Like air. Turning only to - to _tar_.

_What?_

He almost ran into another of them, so focused on the black that was now over his hand, but he lunged backward in time, now both magic-less and weapon-less. Stark had Býleistr now but he couldn't carry him, and only remained crouched over his body with the sword held high. Loki kept his own eyes on the sword. He could do so much more use with it if he had that on _his_ person.

But luck was on his side anyway, however, because - back against the fallen tree now, with the tips of it's twigs pressing into his back, none of them seemed to want to give him any attention at all. Býleistr's blood was what was probably drawing them on more than him. Loki watched as Stark tensed, looking at him now as they slowly prowled around the both of them, taking their time, pressing fear into him. He tightened his hold on the sword when he realised Loki would be of now help in this, and he stood, his face darkening; fear vanishing.

"You _want_ him, you overgrown puppies?" He grabbed the hilt with both hands, his knuckles cracking, "Then come and _get_ him."

Loki slumped against the tree.

 _Idiot_.

Now invited to, every one of them attacked all at once. Loki stepped forward on instinct, unsure of himself what to do though, until he actually heard one of them _whine_. Three were shoved backward, only to roll to their feet again and bound back for more. He frowned, staring. And then, in the gap that they had left, Loki could see. See what was happening. 

Býleistr still lay over the ground, either dead or unconscious. But it was Stark that was doing this.

Stark who knelt before him, his knees dragged in the mud with his arms stretched up and his head ducked down in a flinch.

Gold enveloped them both, covering their bodies in a dome of glimmering light that shone into the otherwise now-shadow-covered clearing. The mutts clawed at this shield, cracking into it too easily, and Stark grit his teeth when they pressed down, looking up to see just what it was he was doing. With his only reaction to it being a slight flash of fear in his eyes. A flash of uncertainty.

Loki watched, aware that his lips were parted, aware that he was now more vulnerable than them, but still. The mutts only attacked, and attacked, and eventually one hit the shield hard enough to make Stark cry out and flinch back again. Loki stepped forward once more, but there was nothing he could do right now anyway.

It was not easy, he remembered, though. Holding a shield up for the first time.

But to have _so_ much power, to have that within him, and to not know it nor _feel_ it surging within him. There were so many thoughts he could have over that, so much he could use or ponder over, but right now?

Right now, this was more useful than anything, and that was what mattered the most. However. It was fading fast.

Another crack formed and Stark's knees dug further into the mud as he was pushed down by his own force. Loki looked down at his _own_ hands, at what little of the glimmer was actually hiding from view. At what it was still hiding from the world. Býleistr had used his form as a weapon. Had still been useful.

And with no magic, no weapons, perhaps he could -

Two of the mutts lunged at Stark at the same time and this time, it caused him to scream. His arms were shaking now, a drop of blood sliding from out his nose and disappearing into his beard. Loki clenched his hands, aware that once they had finished with Stark, they would be after him. He could leave. Right now. He could go. They weren't looking at him.

He could go.

Stark wouldn't be able to hold it up for much longer. And when he let go, darkness would cover them all. He should _go_.

Loki shut his eyes; focusing. Willing the glimmer to fall. Willing for his Jotun side to show. Stark's shield was fading. He was running out of time. He had to do something. He had to -

" _Býleistr_ \- !?" The mutts jerked to attention when more of the shouts from the camp joined the one that they had heard. Torches shined through the trees once again, distracting and worrying them.

Growling in that direction, the mutts backed away slowly, glancing at Stark and the shield that had denied them their meal one more time, before deeming it unworthy of their time and fleeing.

Loki moved then, running forwards, his legs stiff from how rigid he had held himself before, "Stark?"

The shield faded as soon as he was near enough and Stark looked up at him, his eyes glazed, "I - " He started, his voice barely a whisper, before he slowly began to fall forwards. Loki stepped back, looking down at him - now as unconscious as Býleistr likely was as well.

" _Answer us - !_ "

" _Here_!" Loki called back, his eyes now on the forest that the mutts had disappeared into; his heart hammering in his chest. " _We are here_!" Jotun then barged through the trees first, heading straight for their prince. Loki backed away from them as Býleistr was checked over. His wounds were many, as far as Loki could tell. He would need a time to heal.

Ivan ran through as well, then, half of the camp behind him, "What happened?" He demanded, pale as he looked at the mess around them.

"We were attacked." Loki ran a hand through his hair, the tar on his other still stuck to his skin. He would need to look at that later, in private. Nivaldyr lifted Stark into his arms beside him, following the rest of his band out of the forest and back to the camp. Loki followed then, wincing when he found that he had cut he hadn't even noticed yet. Deep but easily healed.

"By _what_? What did this?"

Loki glanced back at the forest, now safe in the camp once again, where there was light and fire, and _fighters_. "By the same creatures that had attacked your Ingriede." He then said, and as soon as he did, he realised it was true. The teeth had been the same. Those claws were the right size to have shredded her clothes as they had.

Ivan snapped his head toward him, his eyes wide, "What? You saw them? You saw what killed her? Her and her brother?"

"There are so many of them." Loki answered, sitting over a stump and watching as both Stark and Býleistr were carried over to the tent that was saved for healing. "So many."

"What were they?"

Red eyes bore into Loki still, the smell of their breath, and the feel of their tar-like fur against his fingers. "I don't know." He murmured, more to himself now, but Ivan stared at him. Waiting for more. "Never have I seen creatures like that."

Never.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action scenes are so hard to write sometimes :L


	28. You want power? I'll show you power.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **"Please, David. Don't make this harder on us both."**

* * *

.

Soup was pressed into his hands immediately, as others bustled around.

The Jotun surrounded the tent that held their prince and demanded to know how he was doing, while Ivan left Loki to see to Stark's unconscious body as well.

The beasts had long since gone but the camp was still in a state of shock after they had all heard the story, or had had it spread around and a twin of elves glanced at him warily as they tended to the scratches all over his skin. He hadn't moved since he'd first taken his seat down here, by the fire, and the rustle of the trees around him as the sky grew steadily darker was the only thing that his mind was focused on right now.

"The mortal is unharmed." He gave a start, blinking and almost dropping the soup from his hands at the sound of Mirith's voice beside him, "But I assume that that is _not_ what you are thinking of?" Loki sighed, shutting his eyes for a second before laying the soup down and rubbing at his forehead, "Loki?"

He didn't answer. Not for a long while, but she waited anyhow.

"How - ? How can there be such creatures in the realms that I have never known nor even _heard_ of before?" She frowned at him, and though the words were mostly meant for himself anyway, she answered.

"There is not one _anywhere_ that has that knowledge."

"Wrong." He tilted his head up toward the sky, recalling how he had stayed to help fight, to watch as those beasts fled at the sound of others and as Stark had projected a shield so strong that it had rendered him unconscious. "Odin knew." His hands twitched at his sides so he curled them in, clenching his fingers together in avoidance of how jittery he was being right now.

"Loki?" She placed a hand over one of his and he took it, squeezing, "Were those creatures really all you saw? We've all need to know what could wait out there for us."

"Yes. It was only them." He sighed again, squinting into the fire. The shapes within it's blackness instantly melded into the wolves and he turned his head away with a hiss. So many questions, and yet he always seemed to feel that the answers were right _there_. He must not be looking in the right places.

Or - he glanced toward the tent that Stark had been taken into - not asking the right people.

He pulled his hand from Mirith's and stood, handing her the soup, "You must be hungry." She raised an eyebrow at that, but took it anyhow, watching as he stepped around the logs around the fire to head toward the other tents.

The flap wasn't parted, meaning privacy, and none of the other elves that had been inside before seemed to be present. He pushed it aside to step past without thinking before pausing, blinking a little in surprise when he watched, bewildered, as Stark hopped on one foot, clinging to the other with a blanket draped over his shoulders that was slowly slipping off.

"Ow - ow - _ow!_ " He fell over on the third hop, collapsing onto his stomach before looking up at Loki, his hair over his eyes, "Uh. Hi?" Standing again with a stagger, he cleared his throat, rubbing at his ankle again where he had presumably hurt it, "I was - um. Actually coming to look for you." Loki nodded at him, slowly, "I just woke up, I mean."

"And I imagine you have questions." Sitting down over the fur, curling his legs beneath him, Loki watched as Stark dusted himself off, "I have a few myself."

"Yeah. I _imagined_ you would too." Joining him over the fur, Stark crossed his ankles over themselves, turning to look at him, "Okay, so me first." Taking a breath, he blurted out: "What the hell _were_ those things?"

"I do not know."

Giving him a short look of surprise at the fact that he actually answered,  Stark leant back over his hands, "Okay ... Next question, then. I - "

"I do not know what _you_ did either."

"Well aren't _you_ just the bundle of knowledge." Running a hand through his hair, he sighed, looking up at the roof of the tent. Neither of them speak for a long while after that. "What I did," He then started, quietly, still not quite looking at him, "It was ... _magic._ Wasn't it. Or - whatever you call it." He scratched at his hair again, a nervous habit perhaps. "And don't say you don't know again. Please." Instead of answering, Loki simply gazed up at the roof as well. "Guessing that that means that you _don't_ know about that too, then." His hair was tugged at now, "God what's happening to me."

"There _is_ a test to see," Loki told him, more out of curiosity than anything else, "Quite easy to do as well."

"Oh yeah? How easy?" Sliding a knife out of one of his hidden sheaths, those that he took from Mirith before, he threw it hard without any warning at all. Stark flinched with half a gasp, his hands coming up reflexively but the knife flew from whatever it was that had rebounded it across anyway, and sent it clattering over the ground further away. " _Jesus_ -"

"As easy as that." A fist suddenly slammed into the side of his face, and though he dodged the strength of it, most of the fingers still hit. " _Careful._ I may be being myself around you right now, but it does not have to last."

"Not much different form how you _usually_ are, asshole _._ " Glaring at him from where he sat, Stark shuffled back a little now, holding himself around the torso as though protecting the rest of his body from anything else that may happen, "Look, if you came for questions, then ask 'em. Or _leave_."

Sitting back over the fur, Loki raised an eyebrow, "Very well. When you held that shield ... did you feel anything? Within yourself?"

Stark looks at him, frowning and straightening just a little, "Yeah."

"And have you ever felt it before?"

"Obviously not." Leaning closer now, Stark's eyes were lit with a hope for more knowledge over what was happening. Sure, possibly, that Loki knew something now. "Does that mean anything?"

" _Ĵie g vęyt leke._"

It was more than amusing to see how interested and nervous Stark now looked, his chest no longer rising as he'd obviously stopped breathing for this one moment; anticipated to learn what it was that was happening to him. "Which is ... Asgardian for what?"

" _Ancient_ Asgardian," Loki corrected, standing now, "And it translates, for you, as: ' _I do not know'_." He left before the bowl hurled at him could hit, and smiled to himself quickly before anyone else noticed, turning to head for his own tent instead.

For some much needed rest.

.

* * *

.

 

_The wolves plagued his dreams, following his every footstep in the forest, devouring anything that he dropped or left behind and catching up with him far too easily, their vile breath in the air and their tar-like fur clinging to his skin._

_Ingriede's hands grabbed at his throat as he ran, pulling him closer, pleading:_ "Don't let it - get me. _Please_ \- don't let it  _get_ me -"

 

The howl of an animal in the night startled him awake, and he lay there shaking, breathing in too fast and too often to really take in any air at all and it was a while before he truly calmed down enough to sit up and mull over his thoughts.

That tar. The same tar that had stuck to his knife after he had buried it into a wolves' shoulder, had to be the same as that that had killed Ingriede. Could they be the same creatures that had killed the scout in the other camp then, as well? Or were there other beasts lingering out in the dark?

At least, now that the sun was rising, they were safer. As assumptions went, he knew they would not attack in the day which gave him only until the sun set again to try and discover just where they had come from. And what they wanted.

Killing but not eating, slicing through meat but not feasting on their captives. Hunting for survival was clearly not their purpose. So what was?

"Loki?" Eira's head poked in through the flap of his tent, finding where Loki was sitting and meeting his gaze with a smile, "We have all gathered to eat for the morn. Mirith tells me that you did not eat after your attack. You _must_."

He really didn't have the patience to deal with her at the moment. Running a hand through his hair, he gestured that he'd heard and lay back down, covering his eyes with his fingers.

"Come!" Her hand grabbed at his bicep, hauling him up, "I have selected you a seat, so come sit." His weight, compared to other species, was excessive and heavy and yet despite him using it all to make her give it up, she was persistent and struggled to hold him still. "Please, come. You must eat, you - "

Yanking his arm back, he sat up again with a glare, "Let _go_ of me, and I will. Be glad that I'm tired right now, or else - "

"You could never harm a scribe, Loki, your threats do not work on me."

Damn her. "I can harm the priest's _daughter_ , Kari, instead?" Glaring at _him_ now, she still did not rise to the bait however, and only tugged at his arm again when he didn't move. Despite his protests, he _was_ hungry. He just - didn't really wish for anyone to question him over what had happened in the night before, because he still wasn't so sure himself and didn't actually want to think about it too much.

But with Eira's pulling and his stomach aching a little now in rebellion, he ended up standing anyway and following her outside. The sun stabbed at his eyes until they finally adjusted and the seat that she had said she'd promised was right beside Mirith and Stark, at the head of the group. Eira scrambled away to sit beside Kira, smiling at him like the brat she was.

Tricked. How stupid of him.

But instead of the questions that he expected to be bombarded with, he saw that they truly were eating and that he had simply been placed at the forefront for whatever reason Eira had inside her little, insane mind. Ivan sat a few seats across and there was no envy in his eyes, so perhaps this seat was just that. A seat, and nothing more. Nothing important.

Mirith gave him meat that must have been caught on a hunt, alongside bread and fruit. Stark ignored him.

They were each spread out across the camp, eating, though the Jotun kept to themselves - as did the Vanir, Elves and Dwarves. Only Valkir, Ivan, Stark's Jotun friend, and Mirith sat apart from their kin. He wondered then, as he ate, that if they were attacked at this moment, who would defend who if any did? Would Stark be the centre, or would each creature stay together and run?

Whichever it was, separated as they all were, it was not exactly useful when it came to fighting or surviving. Those that live, are those that work together. Or those that had power. And as he did not have the _latter_ anymore, the former would have to do.

Stark laughed at whatever Nivaldyr said to him, taking an apple from the Jotun's hand - unburnt at the icy touch which was yet _another_ change in him that Loki had to think over and wonder _why_ \- as he giggled on Loki's other side; sharing his own 'tale' afterward to continue their conversation.

_Tsk._

It was as he listened in to what they were saying that he noticed it, however.

The shine.

The shine over Stark's skin, unnoticeable unless you had been around scribes all your life to be able to look for that certain quality, almost glowed in the sunlight; pulsing in a way that no scribe had ever had their skin work before.

That particular shine, only seen on the most powerful of scribes, showed a change in emotion or trust. It was a vulnerability over their minds and secrets which was why they were usually kept locked away. Stark was neither a scribe, nor powerful, and yet his skin was shining in a way that Loki had only seen once. Over his own Mother's skin when she had performed a brutally trying spell.

_God, what's happening to me._

"He has not seen it himself." Mirith murmured to him, following his subtle gaze as he slid it down over Stark's body, "Eira, and a few other elves have noticed but no one else has seen it." He glanced at her now, taking a slow bite out of his bread, "What does it mean?"

 _Why_ did everyone seem to think that he knew all the answers? "In practice, it would mean that he has magic. His dream has already told us that, but the shine is another matter. There are many things that it could mean." Wrong. There was only one thing, really.

Nivaldyr stood to walk back to his tent and Stark followed, still talking and smiling more than he had in days. Valkir took his place immediately, "It means that the mortal has magic." Eavesdropping little cretin. "More magic than either of _you_ two."

"Mm." Mirith leant closer, more focused on Loki as though Valkir hadn't even spoken at all, "And that makes him dangerous."

What? "Magic is not always a danger." Loki sneered, angrily.

"It is if it cannot be _controlled._ "

"Well, we do not know if _he_ can - "

"Before you awoke, Stark grew angry when questioned and almost destroyed the entire camp." _Really? **Stark** did that **?**_ Loki blinked. Hm. Shame he'd missed it. "Within the prophecy or not, I propose we keep him - "

"No." Maybe later, he'll smile to himself at how quickly they had both given him their undivided attention, "If it cannot be controlled, then binding him will only make it worse."

_'Magic is not something to be shamed or contained Loki.' Frigga tells him as he lay in bed one night, his forehead healing from where he had cut it fighting with others, 'It has spirit much like it's wielder and must be free.'_

He shut his eyes for a moment. "Magic must be free, not contained." If Stark had this power, then wherever it had come from, whatever was feeding it into him, obviously wanted it used. It protected Stark, and others around him, though lashed out according to emotion. It felt - _pure_ , to him, as he'd sat beside the mortal before and it would certainly explain a great many things. "He will simply need training to control it."

"And if he kills us all _as_ he trains?"

"With me as teacher, I can assure you. Nothing as drastic will happen unless I wish it." And here he was, working together with others to ensure survival. Were you _happy_ now, Odin.

Valkir leant back, sharing a look of surprise with Mirith. Loki frowned at them both, "Who else can train him correctly? As knowledgeable in magic as you both may be, my power is still incomparable." Mirith snorted at his arrogance but didn't protest afterward, merely looking through the tents at where Stark stood now.

"Perhaps you could 'teach' him to stay away from the Jotun also. I fear that one night here, he will be killed by one." All three of them then turned their heads in a strange sort of synchronization, staring at Stark as he spoke with Nivaldyr still.

The shine over his skin still pulsed with whatever emotion he was currently feeling so strongly, and the power of it practically radiated. Loki squinted past the light, letting out a sharp exhale through his nose as he thought. Glancing down at his own hands, calling his magic to him in vain, he wondered.

 _His_ powers gone. Stark _gaining_ magic.

Coincidences do not often happen in situations like this. Not really. 

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	29. Trust can be either delicate or strong. Your choice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Magic is just science we don't understand yet.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for my characterization. I feel as though I've forgotten how to write them D:

* * *

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It was not often that Loki indulged in cursing, but after all of his assumptions and after all he had discovered - just now - a litany of vile words filled his mind as he walked toward the tent that Býleistr had been placed in to heal. His magic, his _power_ , wasnot be something that could so easily be drained. He himself had once done so to Amora, a sorceress in her own strength, and it had been a difficult and monthly spell.

So whoever had done so had had _time_ to do it and had clearly wished for it to filter into Stark instead. The only being that came to mind was Býleistr - the damned _interferer_ of everything. So what _else_ to do but to search him out and question him on the so clearly _obvious_ attempt to weaken Loki, the true heir, and yet look noble in doing so by giving the power to their so-called savior. Having been as manipulative himself many times before, the scheme didn't go over his head as easily as it would with another.

Some part of him, however, whispered that Býleistr was not him. And though they were - _brother_ _s_ \- in a way, it did not mean that he would think and act the same despite their genes and parentage. But still. Who else possessed that power and knowledge that Loki's magic could be drained, unless they knew him in some way?

Odin and Frigga were dead, Thor was not here, and Amora wouldn't _dare_. Býleistr had known of Loki's true self long before Loki had even known he existed and his father had been murdered by his own brother.

What better way to conduct revenge than to do this?

Unfortunately, when he entered the tent, Býleistr was still bed-ridden and unconscious, lying still over the fur with Nivaldyr on his other side; arms folded across his chest to show his stance as guard for now. Stark lay asleep in the corner, still weak and tired from the blast of magic that he had used for the shield - and if Mirith was not lying, also from the blast he had caused whilst Loki had slept.

He stirred as Loki looked at him, his fingers curling into the fur beneath as his lips twitched in dreams.

"What is your purpose here, Asgardian?" So Býleistr had not told any of his kin who Loki was, then. Good. "The Prince is still wounded, you cannot speak with him."

"I did not come to." He lied, speaking as light as he could, "The mortal and I have something to discuss." Stark rolled in his sleep, almost colliding with a table beside him but Nivaldyr's hand kept him still - covering his body from stomach to thighs. "But I suppose it can wait."

His sarcasm was ignored, sadly, though there was still a slight ridge between the symbols decorating Nivaldyr's forehead, which he assumed to be a frown. Stark stirred again, rubbing at his nose before settling over the fur with a sigh. He wasn't screaming, so at least no other visions were melding into his mind. Unless they were pleasant. Could there even _be_ pleasant visions?

He caught the Jotun smiling down at Stark, and raised an eyebrow, stepping forward toward him, "Inform me when the _Prince_ awakens." He then ordered.

"I thought it was the mortal you wished to speak with."

"It is." For the sake of being cruel only, Loki suddenly bent and lifted Stark by the waist, hooking an arm underneath his body before setting him on his feet; watching as he blearily opened his eyes in confusion.

"Wha - ?" Pushing away from him, Stark rubbed at his face, yawning before glaring when he saw just who it was that had woken him, "What do _you_ want? Býleistr's still out, so you can't pretend that you care." He yawned again, stepping away from Loki to look at Nivaldyr; questioning him with his eyes to ask what was happening here. 

"Loki says he wishes to speak with you."

"Yeah well, he can _wait_." The tone showed that he was still irritated by Loki's 'test' before, but that didn't matter right now. They needed to talk.

" _He_ is still here. Waiting."

"Yeah, and that's my point." Glaring still, Stark rolled his eyes, "Why _are_ you still here? I don't want to speak to you, piss off." 

Rubbing at his forehead, Loki only shrugged, "And here I thought that you _'wanted_ ' to know what had happened to you." The jibe worked, and while Stark's glare did not subside, he did straighten just a little to subconsciously show his interest. "But. If not, then - "

"You can give up trying to trick me, you know," Stark ran a hand through his hair, bending to snag a berry from a plate of fruit left by Býleistr's side, "You don't know shit about what's happening to me, all you're doing is guessing. I'd rather find things out for myself."

"By all means," Spreading his hands out, Loki smiled, "Destroy the entire camp with your own efforts." The berry squashed between his teeth. "And when they decide to lock you away, well - "

"You know, if there was an award of some kind, that was only given to fucking _assholes_ with the least amount of morals in the entire _universe_ , there wouldn't even be a competition when it came to you." How flattering. "But fine. You want to talk, _talk_." Walking past him, his shoulder knocking against Loki's as he did, Stark left the tent with as much anger as he'd had before - when confiding in with Býleistr in the woods.

Nivaldyr watched Loki until he left as well, his gaze blank and empty but there was also something else - within it - that made him pause for only a moment. Then it was gone.

The sun was higher in the sky now, beating down over him as he walked. His tent would be the last place that Stark would voluntarily go, so he entered his one instead, pushing back the flap with a slow exhale to brace himself for -

Stark punched him as soon as he stepped foot inside. Before he could even react to _that_ blow as well, a knife was then jammed into his arm. He blocked it, holding Stark's clenched hand at bay, "What are you _doing?!_ "

Instead of replying, Stark simply yanked his arm back when Loki wasn't expecting him to and stabbed him in the thigh instead; _hard._ He looked feral, full of a rage that Loki didn't quite understand, and the knife was pulled out to stab him in the ribs before he finally managed to come to his senses and push Stark away and back. He fell, sprawling over the fur but immediately tried to stand again, the knife gripped in his hand, so Loki quickly bent; kneeling over him to hold his body down.

"Let go of me! Let _go_!" Stark bucked beneath him. Had he gone mad? "You're a fucking _liar_ , you - _"_

"Stark, have you - ?"

"Get _\- off of Me_!" Complying immediately, Loki pushed off a lot harder than he could have, standing to glare down at him. Stark scrambled to his feet, the knife still in hand, but now that he had been let go, he calmed slightly - the sudden anger in him depleting as fast as it had risen. "You lied."

"Yes, I've _gathered_ by now. But about _what_? You will have to be more specific with me." His thigh throbbed, the knife wound small but deep and despite himself, he was actually a little impressed by how viscous Stark could be without warning, and with so little to use. It was endearing.

"You don't have any magic, do you." Uh oh. His stomach tightened painfully, at that - his jaw clenching. "Don't ask me how I found out, I already feel fucking stupid for not even realizing it sooner, and I don't really care to be honest anyway."

"Then what does it matter."

"It matters." Stark's eyes darkened. "The 'scout' came back." Ah. "You said you were going to send him to check. You remember that? To see if Earth was okay? To see if my _vision_ was real or not, you _said_ so. And like an _idiot_ I actually believed you." He scoffed. "God, Earth could be in danger, could be  _destroyed_ even _,_ right now and I haven't even got the slightest idea at all just because _you_ wanted to hide the fact that your fucking magic was gone."

Was he meant to apologize? "And your sudden murder attempt?"

"Cathartic." Throwing the knife away, Stark slumped to the floor with a sigh, "I knew it wouldn't _kill_ you, don't be so dramatic."

"Ask me that again when my _skin_ stops throbbing." That brought on a smile but it was probably only because Stark was glad of his pain, "Stark," He sighed, pausing for a moment, "If we are to be honest here, then the reason that I did not reveal my magic's disappearance is ultimately because I do not trust you nor -"

"You think _I_ trust you?" Stark snapped, the anger back again, "No. But I did when it came to the scout. And I did when it came to a _lot_ of things actually, so you'd think that a little vise-versa would be coming in around about now."

"Then perhaps _this_ can be the start," Loki snapped back, growing tired with the arguing they always seemed to fit into when talking, "You have something that I want and that _you_ do not want. To gain it back for me you will need to control this magic until it can be returned, and _then_ we can see about returning you to Earth."

"The - "

"My magic is what will allow us to travel through the realms without the passageways and without it we are stranded. Do you understand?"

"Hold on," Holding up a hand, Stark stared at him, "You're saying that _I've_ got your magic? Inside me? The so-called _real_ _power_ that you were always going on about?" The expression on his face must clearly have answered for him. "Wow. Okay." Chewing over his bottom lip, he actually looked a little interested now, "So how powerful does that make _me_ now?"

"Not powerful at all."

"No need to get snippy. Just because I've got magic now and you're - "

"Without control, the magic is essentially useless within you. You _are_ not very powerful at the moment, and until I learn why Býleistr drained it into you, how powerful you can _become_ as a _mortal_ is unknown to me as well."

"Woah, wait, you think _Býleistr_ did this?" Stark let out a short laugh, staring at him mockingly, "Býleistr who forgives every little thing you do, and who tried to convince me that you weren't all that _bad_? Right ... "

"Open personalities can be deceiving."

"Yeah, no. Only when it comes to you." And here they were. Arguing again. "Býleistr isn't lik - "

"Stark whatever you may think of your _perfect_ assessment of others," Stark's glare cooled. "I am offering you help here, will you take it or not?"

"You're not offering me help. You just want your magic back."

"Yes, and by helping you control it, you will not harm anyone with it." Honestly. "Now take the offer."

"No." Standing closer now, Stark folded his arms cross his chest, smiling, "I don't trust you, I don't want to, and I don't _need_ your help. But if you think I do, then ... _convince_ me." Pushing past now, he walked out of the tent without even looking back.

Loki stood there for more than a minute, staring at the spot that Stark had been standing in for a long while before finally, smiling to himself.

Hm. Perhaps he had underestimated the weakest Avenger's mental strength.

But that could always be remedied.

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* * *

**Earth - England - London Underground:**

* * *

 

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Natasha held her wounded side gingerly as she walked through the crowds of people huddled together under the cracking tunnels.

There was still no word on any of the others, so just like the old days, she's been dealing with just herself and Clint. SHIELD had gone dark after the first quake, but she had already been in England by the time it had happened so she had no idea what the real status is. She didn't even know if anyone in the Triskelion was alive or not.

Fury had protocol. But this was unlike anything she'd seen before. The ground had not only shook, but it had separated and shifted under their feet, moving at a pace that lifted cars and trees off of the ground and led to thousands of deaths.

Pepper Potts was not answering her phone.

There was a tiny billboard of names and photographs of missing people littered everywhere, and everyone dreaded to think what would happen during the next quake. And how many would survive it.

She'd barely survived the other herself, and a few of her ribs were definitely cracked or broken.

"Oh god - oh _god_." A woman sobbed to her left, her daughter cradled in her arms, bleeding from the head and no longer breathing. The same was all over the place and despite her experience in situations like this, it still hurt her heart to see.

"Hey." Clint caught up to her, his shirt blood-soaked. He'd probably tried to save someone again, him being one of the only people down here who knew more than just basic first aid, "Any word from anyone?"

She shook her head, "Potts still isn't answering so I've no idea if Stark is back or not. I got a brief word from Rhodes but it was crackled with low reception and I barely heard anything."

"Least we know he's alive." He glanced down at his shirt, as though realizing for the first time how much blood he had over it, "God."

"What happened?"

"Hm?" He looked at her, "It's not mine. Nothing bad either. Pregnancy." She raised an eyebrow and he sheepishly laughed, "Yeah, she went into labor and her husband saw me bandaging someone up. Dragged me into it."

"Is the baby okay?"

"Healthy little girl." He sighed, looking round, "Might not last long in these conditions though." Glancing up together, they frowned, "I've been thinking of going to the surface. Getting supplies and more food. Might take a few volunteers with me?"

"I'll stay here, stop any fighting or panicking."

"Get some volunteers for that too, Nat." She grinned, and for once, it was only a little false, "Try Potts again in an hour. Or maybe even JARVIS."

"My speed-dial tries him every seven minutes. He isn't there either."

"Shit." Clint ran a hand through his short hair and tugged, "Shit."

 

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* * *

###  **Alfheimr:**

* * *

**.**

 

Buried under the rubble that was once part of Asgard's great hall, Thor Odinson opened his eyes. Laying beside him, unconscious and bleeding heavily, was Captain Steven Rogers.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these chapters are getting progressively shorter but it's Ramadan and I find it hard to write when starving :(


	30. Convinced.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **A teacher is a pupil still, in more than one respect.**

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* * *

 

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Thor staggered through the thick forest before him, Steven draped over his shoulder limply and held close enough to ensure that he wouldn't be harmed by any of the branches nearby. His own head bled as he walked, knocked against the rubble as it had fallen with him through the void, and he had to constantly blink to ensure that he'd not fall onto his own face as well. From all that he could see around him, he knew that he was in Alfheimr and that at least meant that he would not be in any immediate danger. But it still did not explain just _why_ he was here in the first place.

"Wh ... ?" He paused at the slightest whimper from behind him, bending to lower Steven down to lean against a tree immediately and watching as he slowly awoke, "... Thor?"

"Yes. I had hoped you would wake soon, my friend," Placing a hand over his friend's shoulder, he smiled, "You were greatly wounded before, but your body has healed since."

Glancing down at himself, Steven frowned at the cuts that he had over his body, the reddened stain over the scales of his suit, "Yeah. It does that." Standing with a wince, he still slipped in a swoon and Thor caught him quickly, "Ow. Thanks." Glancing around again, then, he sagged, "The others ... ?" Thor shook his head with a deep sigh, and if possible, Steve sagged even more, "Well, if we're here, and _okay,_ then there's every chance, right."

"Of course." Smiling again, Thor straightened, "Alfheimr is a large realm and there are the eight others as well. I am sure they are elsewhere and alright."

"Hope they're together at least, if they are." Running a hand through his hair, he blew out his cheeks, looking around at the trees surrounding them all, "Uh. Thor? Do you know those ... men?"

Turning to follow his gaze, Thor squinted through the branches, finding himself looking at a band of elves; armed and hidden only slightly. "The King." One of them called aloud and many of them repeated it immediately afterward, mingling the words together. As soon as he saw them, he felt a little spring of hope inside of him. At least he had allies here.

"The King!"

"Aagard's King is here."

"The Mighty Thor."

Stepping forward to address them all and to ask for their assistance in telling what had happened here, Thor clasped Steven's shoulder again, to show their allegiance should he need to. But before he could even open his mouth to speak, however, a final voice barked out an order for them all to follow.

"Kill him."

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* * *

**Vanaheim:**

* * *

 

.

The camp seemed to buzz as soon as he stepped back out of the tent, a call for some to go and hunt for the next day.

It was almost midday anyway, and a different group had already returned, bundles of meat now being cooked by the fire as many crowded around for their food.

He walked past them all, specifically looking for Stark again really, but Mirith found him first, "Once you have begun the training, inform me and I will see that you have no disturbances. The mortal's magic should not be provoked until he can control it."

"I apparently first have to _have_ him to allow me train," He muttered back to her, joining her strides as they continued on through the camp together. She was wearing armor now, clearly having been one of the hunting for the day, and there was dried blood over the vambraces that she wore over her wrists. "He doesn't believe he needs my help."

"Then convince him."

He huffed out a short laugh, "That's what he said." Learning then, on how to survive in a situation like this, if he already knew what and how to speak to prove his strength. Perhaps he had learnt from his new Jotun friend, even. "Where is he now?"

"He is not with you?" She frowned, looking at the tent that he had just exited out of before then raising an eyebrow instead.

"He left before me." He explained before she could ask.

"Ah." Shrugging, she removed her vambraces as she walked, untying the strings beneath them and tossing them into her own tent as they passed it by. Her wrists were clean, but she still splashed them in a bucket of water left by the furs of her bed, "Then I do not know. I would _guess_ that he would be with the _Jotun_ , as usual."

She really did not like them.

What had they done to her, he wondered, and was it the band specifically or the species themselves. He hoped not, he was actually becoming rather fond of her, but still. Even if it was, there was no need to let her _know_ , and if she was fond of him as well then perhaps she wouldn't even care.

Before he could ask her anything else, though, a sudden _scream_ filled the mulled silence around the camp, echoing and merging into short and shocked gasps, of either pain or confusion. It actually sent a chill down his spine and he turned toward it, glancing at Mirith when he realized that she recognized the sound as well, and they both wordlessly headed to see what had happened. Another vision probably. Just what they needed.

But at least it answered the question of his whereabouts.

Stark was on his knees, looking so different than he had only a few minutes ago - gripping onto Nivaldyr tight with both hands as the Jotun supported him easily, staring down at him in surprise. He was shaking, gritting his teeth and locking wide eyes onto something that only he could see right now. "Anthony?" Joining him on her knees, Mirith pressed a hand to his brow, but he didn't respond, still seeing whatever event he had been given in his mind, and he only pressed into the Jotun further, shutting his eyes with a softly-muttered curse. "Take him to his tent." She snapped when others began to crowd around and Nivaldyr immediately bared his teeth at her, bristling at the order. Stark shook again however, against him, and his face softened, lifting him into his arms to take him away. What was it about Stark and inciting kindness in the unlikeliest of creatures.

The Mountain Giant and now this Jotun. Hm.

There was a patch of blood over the ground when he was lifted up off of it, dripping down his arms as they hung limply as well, and Loki watched as he was carried away; his eyes still shut and tremors running under his skin.

What had he _seen_?

Mirith joined him again, glaring down at the blood, "We are lucky he didn't lash out." Magically, she meant, he knew, but after this morning he also knew that Stark was capable of anything else right now as well. His strength and _aim_ could use some work, but other than that, he had actually caused some pain for him before. "Loki?"

He gestured at the blood. "A seer does not always have a wound after a vision, unless it was greatly distressing or of some magnitude." She probably knew this already, so he added, "For all our sake, let us hope it's only because of the distress instead of anything else."

"He _seemed_ distressed."

"He's mortal." She rolled her eyes at the reminder, "His body is not meant to sustain magic nor the sight. The distress could only have been from the pain that he received instead of what he saw."

"Mm. Perhaps." Glaring at him now, she folded her arms across her armored chest, "But you do not think so."

No. No, he didn't.

Without another word to her then, he left to follow Nivaldyr instead, and found him already in the tent. Stark had sat up now, his arms around his knees as he bandaged them himself and his back to a pile of cushions, staring down at his feet. As soon as Loki entered, Nivaldyr stood and walked to leave, saying to Stark that he will get water, "He has not spoken of it." Was murmured to him in passing and then the Jotun was gone.

Stark didn't look up when he stepped around the fur and took a seat just before him, so he simply ate from the fruit left there instead, while he waited for acknowledgement. Blood seeped through the bandage and Stark clenched his fists when he noticed, rolling a new one over it.

Loki only sat and watched, wondering himself how to start this conversation. After a moment, however, he didn't need to. By then he was practically half way through the bowl and finally bit into a sixteenth berry, watching Stark more than it so he ended up spraying himself in the eye with the juice. Unintentionally, he managed to break Stark's silence with that mistake and was rewarded with a snort.

He glanced up then, placing the rest of his berry on his tongue and chewing, before finally deciding to speak, "Have you dec - ?"

"How often do visions come true?" Stark interrupted, his eyes dull when he met Loki's. "Do you know? Is there a percentage or something to find it out?"

"What did you see?"

"I can't tell you." 

" _Stark_ \- "

"No, I mean I _can't_. _Physically_." He gave him a look now, desperate and even a little frightened, "It's like - it's like it won't _let_ me. Like I'm not meant to tell you, or something." Pressing a hand under his chin, as though he wanted to place it over his mouth instead but chose not to at the last second, "But it's bad. I can - I can tell you _that_ much at least."

Wonderful. "How bad?"

" _Bad_." Running a hand through his hair and tugging, Stark sighed and tilted his head back to try and calm himself down, breathing in _slowly_ , "So how often do they come true then?"

"There _is_ no set number. Some do and some don't." Obviously not the answer he was looking for, Stark put his hands over his face for a moment, sliding them down bit by bit, "Where did your vision take place? Here, or on Midgard again?"

"It was - " Shaking his head, Stark flinched, slapping a hand to his forehead, "I can't - _tell_ you. I don't know why, it just won't come out, it - !"

"Calm yourself," Placing his hands over the man's shoulders, Loki leant closer, "You've magic in you, connected to emotion. Calm yourself down before you get someone _killed_." Staring at him, Stark's eyes were wide, filled with liquid from the clear pain in his head, but he still didn't look away at all; sucking in each breath until they eventually slowed and he could finally stop shaking.

"Okay." He whispered, his face pale now, and drained, "Okay, I've got it." He pushed Loki back then, shuffling out of his grip and holding his knees all over again, no longer shaking but still looking haunted by what he had seen, "Consider me convinced."

"What?"

"The training thing." He clarified, though by then Loki had already assumed that that was what he meant, "I'll - look, what do you need me to do? With the training that you offered, and everything. Getting a grip of it."

Curious choice of words. "Did you see yourself _using_ magic in your vision, Stark?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe?" He made a noise of frustration, "I wasn't really _in_ it okay, but that's not what I'm talking about anyway. I meant _now_. I couldn't control it, I could feel it building even before you said it was, and if you hadn't been here I might've - "

"If you wish for me to train, you will have to apologize first." Stark blinked, frowning. "For the attack on me before."

"Uh, _no_. You deserved that."

Stubborn. "Fine. But as your _teacher_ in this, I want full respect." He merely gained a roll of the eyes, which was good because it continued to calm him down, and it wasn't another comment at least, either. Which was a start, "I taught my magic to myself Stark, and most of it came naturally. It will be difficult for you, and you will mostly need faith in your - well. _My_ stolen abilities."

"Look, I really don't care about how hard it'll be or what you think of me. Just tell me when we can start so I can actually mentally rant without it shooting someone through the head."

If he wanted to, then he wanted to. Gripping him by the arm to lift him to his feet, Loki smirked, "Very well. But remember. _You_ asked to begin now."

And that really would be the only warning that he'd get.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any mistakes, it hasn't been reread D:
> 
> My tumblr is frostironistheperfectotp.tumblr.com/ Come say hi! :D


	31. Chapter 31

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**Hello. I am sorry to give false hope of a new chapter, but this is just a warning.**

**I am working on a project that will take a lot of my time away from fic writing. I will still try to update but please don't send me messages about them if I don't soon.**

**Hopefully, if this project works out, it'll all be for my readers anyway.**

**Thank you for understanding. This will be deleted when there is a new chapter.**

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